The Return of the Stone
by Ann29
Summary: The subelectron amplifier from 'Plunder and Lightning' resurfaces to wreak havoc in Cape Suzette.
1. It's Back!

**The Return of the Stone  
****Part 1**

_TaleSpin _and its characters are property of Disney. All other characters are mine and cannot be used without permission.**  
**

_**Cape Suzette Harbor  
**__**January 1938  
**__**Wednesday Morning**_

In the pale, misty dawn, a sleepy seagull sitting on a buoy saw an unusual sight. The dark water a few yards from his perch bubbled up, then a man in a wet suit and scuba gear bobbed his head out of the waves. Pushing back his hood, spitting out his regulator, and lifting his goggles, the tan bear, a professional scrounger, took a few deep breaths. Shaking his damp, closely-cropped head to get the water out of his fur, he raised his dripping hand to examine his new-found treasure in the light of day.

After searching the sea floor nightly for more than a year, he finally had his prize. He scraped a glob of mud from the object clenched tightly in his fist just as a shaft of sunlight blazed between the hills, revealing a patch of gleaming crimson beneath the grime. With a triumphant whoop, the diver swam for shore.

_**Louie's  
**__**Thursday Afternoon**_

The late afternoon sun shone brightly when the _Sea Duck_ splashed down in the sparkling azure waters surrounding the tropical island that was home to Louie's Place and taxied up to one of the few free spaces along the dock. As soon as the propellers stopped, a group of monkeys swarmed the plane - filling the fuel tank, checking the oil, washing the windows, etc. The pilot, a large grey bear, and his navigator, a small brown bear cub, disembarked. Their teeth chattered despite the torrid temperatures.

"How'd I ever let Becky talk me into turnin' the _Duck_ into a freezer, Li'l Britches?" Baloo growled. He threw his heavy parka into the yellow and orange Conwing L-16's cockpit, slammed the door, and stormed down the dock towards the nightclub.

Trotting to keep up with the pilot's angry strides, Kit felt his bones thaw in the warm sunshine. "Beats flying through a volcano to cook two hundred pizzas."

"Dunno 'bout that, kid. Burned an' frost-bit tootsies both hurt somethin' fierce."

"C'mon, Papa Bear, be reasonable. You know we had to pack Bo's Better Bitter Butter in ice, otherwise it'll melt. If that happened, the customers would be furious, not to mention Miz Cunningham."

"She won't be 'Miz Cunningham' much longer." Baloo fondly ruffled the boy's hair through his blue and red baseball cap.

The thirteen-year-old beamed at the happy thought. "Are you gonna tell Louie about that?"

"You betcha. After all, he's my oldest pal," the big bear replied, pushing open the door and stepping into the noisy interior of Louie's.

Even though it was the middle of the afternoon, the nightclub was hopping, crammed full with both freelance and Khan's pilots. The band belted out one jazzy tune after another. Customers devoured frothy fruit drinks, elaborate ice cream concoctions, and greasy fried foods as fast as they were dished out.

Louie, a large, brownish-red orangutan, bounded from his office. Over the din, he shouted, "Hey, it's little boy Baloo! What's the haps, man?"

The two friends performed their special handshake - giving each other high fives with one hand and pointing at each other with the opposite hand.

"Hey, Kit," Louie greeted, leaping over the tiki bar. "The usual?"

Kit nodded as he scrambled onto a barstool.

Louie dished up two Krakatoa Specials using his hands and feet, scat singing in harmony with the band's song. "A-ba-be-bo-do-dow-wow-bo-bow-wow-mwa-du-mwa-da-dang-da-bang..."

"Thanks, Louie," Kit said politely before dipping his spoon into the mound of vanilla, chocolate and strawberry ice cream, whipped cream, and hot fudge topped with five flaming sparklers served in a half coconut shell. His stomach rumbled; the sandwich that he had eaten for lunch seemed ages ago.

Between big mouthfuls, Baloo said, "Uh, Louie, I got somethin' ta tell ya."

Perceiving the big bear's unusually serious demeanor, the ape bantered half-teasingly, "Who waltzed over your grave? Not bad news, cuz?" He placed two Banana Burritos on a serving tray and handed it over the bar to one of his waiters.

Baloo pushed his empty coconut shell away and leaned forward, his arms folded across the bar. "Naw...um...don't be disappointed, Louie, ol' pal...I know how much ya like Rebecca an' all, but..."

"Ya chased the pretty lady off, didn't ya? With your ugly mug, you never had the good luck that yours truly has with the dames," Louie said with a mischievous twinkle in his black eyes. He licked his paw, removed his straw hat, and slicked back his thinning hair.

Baloo scowled at Louie's smirk. "Don't see women beatin' down your door. In fact," he took a deep breath and blurted out, "Becky an' me are gettin' married."

Louie burst out laughing. Tears of mirth flowed down his cheeks as he beat his palm against the top of the bar. "HA-HA! That's the jivingest joke I've ever heard! Oh, baby!" His boisterous guffaws subsided when he saw Baloo's and Kit's wan smiles. "Ha-ha...ha...heh? Well, blow my nose." And he did just that on a white towel with a loud honk. "You're not jokin', are ya?"

A blush crept to Baloo's cheeks. He shook his head.

Kit piped up with, "They've been engaged for almost a week."

Louie was shocked beyond belief. "No!"

Grinning, Kit nodded vehemently. "Yes!"

"She force ya to marry her, cuz? She said ya had ta marry her, or she'd pilfer the plane? Was that it?"

"Nope. I asked her," said Baloo. With his index finger, he drew an 'X' across his chest. "Cross my heart an' hope ta fly."

Once Louie picked his jaw up off the floor, he said, "Why on earth did ya go an' do a fool thing like that?"

Baloo hugged his red pilot's cap with a dreamy smile on his face. "Why'd ya think? I love her."

"You...love..._her_!" Louie nearly screeched. "Are we talkin' about the same Rebecca?"

"Yeah."

"Rebecca Cunningham? Your boss?"

"How many Rebeccas do ya think I know?" Baloo snapped.

"Well, there was that Rebecca in Spango-Pango. Remember that wild weekend?"

"Oh, yeah..." Baloo grinned, sharing a knowing look with Louie. He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. "Man, oh, man, she was a looker!"

"An' I didn't mind lookin'!" Louie added with a wolf whistle.

Baloo's expression became serious. Running his finger around the rim of his empty bowl, he said, "But that dame's not even in the same class as my Becky."

"I thought that that Rebecca was pretty classy from the top of her blonde head down to the tips of her high heels."

Adamantly, Baloo said, "Nah, Becky wouldn't trick us inta huntin' for some stupid treasure."

Kit said, "Yeah, Miz Cunningham tells you if you're going hunting for something, like truffles."

"Truffles!" Baloo snickered and clapped a paw on the boy's shoulder.

Louie interjected, "'Course, how were we s'posed ta know that that dame was in cahoots with the loot snatchers? They stole that treasure right out from under our fuzzy noses."

"They were tryin' ta _break_ our noses, Louie."

"An' our necks. Did we get anythin' outta that crazy weekend?"

"Our lives. An', boy, was I glad ta have that!"

Louie scratched his head. "How _did_ we get mixed up in that?"

"Same way as always. Got fooled by a pretty face an' a great set of legs."

Simultaneously, Baloo and Louie vowed, "Never again!"

"But I sure wouldn't mind seein' her again. That dame had more curves than..." Louie quickly broke off when he noticed Kit's eyes fixed on him. He self-consciously cleared his throat. "More ice cream, Short Stop?"

With his spoonful of dripping ice cream suspended in midair, Kit shook his head, eager for more reminiscing. His Papa Bear didn't often share particulars about his past, especially sordid details about the mysterious creatures called women.

"Those were the days, huh, Louie?" Baloo said with a grin.

"Fun times, man." Louie held out his palm and Baloo slapped it.

"But we sure took a beatin' that time. _That_ wasn't fun." The big bear rubbed his temple. "I thought I'd never get over that knock over the head."

"Speakin' of knocks over the head...are ya sure yer feelin' well, cousin?" He slapped a hand to Baloo's forehead. "Usually ya can't stop complainin' 'bout Rebecca's slave-drivin' an' crazy schemes to dig up more dough."

The pilot puffed out his chest. "I feel like a million shaboozies, innkeeper. I'm in the prime of life."

Smirking, Louie countered with, "Yeah, looks like a whole lotta prime beef ta me."

"Watch it," Baloo growled playfully.

"But all jokin' aside, you're really gettin' married? No lie, guy?"

"Nope. No lie," the big bear said simply.

Greatly disappointed, Louie mumbled under his breath, "Keepin' the biggest thing in yer life from yer best bud for a whole week!" He absently whipped a white towel around like a propeller while pacing behind the bar.

In the nick of time, Kit saved his sundae from being knocked to the floor by the towel.

"Baloo an' Rebecca?" the ape muttered to himself, completely incredulous. "Kinda like the Filthy Beast marryin' Miss Goody Two-Shoes. Who woulda thunk it, man? Wowsie, wowsers...craaaazzzzy..."

Annoyed, Baloo growled, "Hey, I ain't filthy! I showered this mornin'."

After the fact that his best friend was getting married finally sunk in, Louie enthusiastically slapped Baloo on the back, causing the big bear to wheeze in pain. "Congratulations, fuzzy! Never thought I'd see the day when party-'til-dawn Baloo would join the ol' pipe-and-slipper club. When's the big day gonna be?"

"June sometime." Baloo shrugged. "We don't have all the details sorted out yet."

"You mean _Miz Cunningham_ doesn't have all of the details sorted out yet," Kit added with a sly grin.

Crushing his hat in his hands, Baloo said solemnly, "I'd...uh, appreciate it if you could be there ta see me hitched, Louie."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Baloo," Louie answered, just as solemnly. Then, a big smile creased his simian features and he jumped on the bar. "What are we all standin' here for? Special oc-ca-sions deserve biiiig cel-e-bra-tions!"

"Now yer talkin'!" Baloo exclaimed, putting on his hat. "Maestro, strike up the band!" He snapped his fingers and the band broke into a rousing rendition of _'_I'm Gone_'_.

Kit tugged on Baloo's shirt. "Papa Bear, we've got to deliver the butter pronto!" he reminded sternly and pointed to his watch. "The ice is gonna melt out in that heat."

Baloo, bouncing to the music, waved him off. "Aw, relax, partner. Bo's Better Bitter Butter'll make better biscuit batter if it's a little warm. What's better than a warm biscuit? Man, what a beat!" He jigged around the room to the music.

"But Miz Cunningham will..." Kit began.

"Ya gotta lighten up, Kit-boy, if yer gonna be my son. Let Papa Bear learn ya what life's all about." Baloo patted the boy condescendingly on the head.

"You won't be alive long enough to teach me anything when Miz Cunningham finds out you ruined her shipment," Kit muttered under his breath, adjusting his hat indignantly. "_She'll_ have a meltdown."

Letting his spoon clatter in the now-empty coconut shell, Kit morosely watched Baloo and Louie dance. He knew it wouldn't be long before the ice melted and, consequently, the butter. He also knew his Papa Bear couldn't care less. When Baloo started partying, obligations flew out the window no matter how pressing they were. The boy sighed and hopped off the barstool to retrieve his homework from the _Sea Duck_.

_**Higher for Hire  
**__**Five Hours Later**_

Darkness had drawn its mantle over the tropical city of Cape Suzette when the _Sea Duck_ taxied up to the dock outside of a small brown building overlooking the harbor. As usual, Baloo was attempting to think up a good excuse for their tardiness.

"What's our story, Kit? How's about we're late, 'cause we got hit by a deer?"

From his dour countenance, the cub was clearly not impressed. Arms crossed, he retorted, "A _flying_ deer? Not even Wildcat would buy that."

"Reindeer fly," Baloo said weakly, turning off the engines.

Kit shook his head.

"No, huh? Swarmed by giant dragonflies?"

"Used it two weeks ago, and she didn't believe you then."

Baloo snapped his fingers. "How's about this one, navigator? We were held up by butter fanatics with super large buckets of popcorn. It took everything we had to fight 'em off!"

The duo exited the plane and walked slowly towards Higher for Hire.

Kit sighed in exasperation. "Why don't we just tell Miz Cunningham the truth, Papa Bear? She knows we were at Louie's."

"Where's the fun in that?" Baloo asked, frowning.

Bear and cub stepped through the door into the office. Rebecca, a petite brown bearess, was stationed at her desk. Impatiently drumming her fingers on the desktop, she glowered at her flight crew from between two large stacks of papers. Her seven-year-old daughter Molly, a little yellow bearess, sat on the edge of the desk. She was scribbling in a Danger Woman coloring book.

"Baloo! Kit!" the little girl cried happily. She hopped off the desk and ran over to Kit. "Wanna play tail gunner?"

"Not now, Molly," Kit answered softly. An uneasy sensation was growing in his stomach from the furious expression on his boss's face.

"Now, Beckers, I can explain," said Baloo, flashing her his most charming, disarming smile. His mind raced to think of the perfect alibi. "Ya see, Kit an' me..."

His boss held up a hand to silence him. "Don't give me another one of your lame excuses, Baloo. I know exactly where you were, and I also know that the butter was liquefied to a pool of mushy goo by the time you finally delivered it _two hours late_," she said in the silky smooth, ominously tranquil tone of pure rage.

A uncomfortable silence fell over the foursome, during which Baloo and Kit fidgeted nervously under Rebecca's glare.

Finally, she said quietly, but firmly, "You're fired, Baloo."

"I'm..._what_!" Baloo cried in disbelief. His boss had threatened to fire him at least once a day, but had never carried through with her threat. And now, when they were engaged, she had the audacity to do it. Within the span of a few moments, his expression changed from astonished to angry. In his fury, he balled up his large fists, seeming to grow in height and girth.

"Mommy, you can't! Baloo's gonna be my daddy!" Molly shrieked hysterically, tears pooling in her brown eyes. She latched herself onto one of the pilot's legs.

Without taking her eyes from Baloo's red face, Rebecca said tranquilly, "Kit, take Molly outside, please."

A fearful shiver streaked down Kit's spine. Not wanting to witness a second Great War, he obediently took the sniffling little girl by the paw and led her outside.

When the door closed behind the cubs, Baloo stomped across the room and punched his fists against the ledger, causing everything on the desk to skip. "Now listen here, Rebecca! This!" POUND! "Ain't!" POUND! "Fair!" POUND! POUND!

"Sit down, Baloo," she motioned to a crate beside the desk; "and I'll tell you what's not fair."

Mutely, he complied. If looks could kill, Rebecca would have been buried six feet under.

Rebecca swivelled in her chair to face him. Taking one of his large paws in both of hers, she said softly, "Baloo, let's get one thing straight. If we are going to be married, I have to be able to trust you completely. No more dumb excuses. No more secrets. Everything has to be aboveboard and out in the open."

He opened his mouth to protest, but Rebecca cut him off with, "Honestly, I don't mind your going to Louie's. You have to refuel somewhere, and Louie's _does_ have the cheapest gas."

In spite of his black mood, Baloo's lips twitched at her characteristic comment. Saving money ranked high on her list of priorities.

"I realize that Louie is your friend, and I don't mind your having a few laughs with him. It's just..." she rubbed her forehead wearily; "would it have hurt you to have taken five minutes out of your jocularity to call me and tell me you were going to be late?"

"Jockey? There's no horses at Louie's."

Fighting to keep a straight face, Rebecca chuckled inwardly. His malapropisms made him even more lovable. "Not 'jockey'. Jocularity. It means having fun or _partying_."

Baloo hung his head in shame. "Oh...sorry, Rebecca," he mumbled. He was startled by her quiet approach to this conversation. It made him feel guiltier than if she had, as was her wont, ranted and raved.

Quietly, she continued, "In a few months, you're going to be the head of the household, and you have to start acting like it, no matter what."

Baloo again opened his mouth, but she tightened her grip on his hand and forged on earnestly. "Not only that, but you'll have a wife and two children to help provide for. This business is all we have, Baloo. If it goes under, we'll lose everything - our home, the _Sea Duck_..."

"Not my baby!" Baloo cried.

Rebecca nodded, pleased that she had hit a nerve. She hoped that this time she had finally gotten through his thick skull that punctuality and responsibleness were important. She smiled a shy smile up at him.

A year ago, Baloo was the last man on earth that Rebecca thought she would ever be engaged to. True, he had a million bad habits that drove her to distraction, but he had a good heart; and she liked nothing better than to be held, safe and secure, in his strong, yet gentle, arms. Smiling up at him, she loved the way his unruly hair fell over his forehead, the boyish grin on his face, and the tender light in his eyes. It was nice - sitting there, hand in hand, knowing that she was loved in return, just the two of them. Alone.

As one mesmerized, Baloo gazed deep into her eyes - large, velvety brown eyes that he had once compared to two bowls of chocolate pudding. He thought to himself, _If bein' engaged makes Becky so calm, cool, an' composed, I shoulda asked her a long time ago, _as the soft pair of eyes drew closer, closer, closer...

Then, instantaneously, as if a switch had been flipped, those eyes flashed dangerously. Roughly tweaking his ear, she shouted at the top of her lungs, "I ought to _strangle_ you for the despicable stunt you pulled on the Bo's Better Bitter Butter account! Thanks to your goofing off, we lost a very, very profitable client! No clients means no money means no plane means no parties at Louie's! Do you hear me?"

His ears ringing, a dazed Baloo gulped. He nodded quickly.

A sunshiny smile broke over her face, dispelling the storm clouds on her brow. "Now, the next item on the agenda - I need a pilot. Do you know anyone who's available?"

Baloo, who was becoming accustomed to her abruptly shifting highs and lows, knew that it was best to just play along. He warily jerked a thumb at himself. "How's 'bout me?"

Rebecca looked him up and down with a critical eye. "Hm...can you lift heavy objects?"

Baloo flexed his muscles. "Yep."

"How are your piloting skills?"

"The best in the world," with false modesty, he added, "by my own estimation."

Shooting him a coquettish glance through her eyelashes, she asked nonchalantly, "How are you at kissing?"

Taking her in his arms, he gave her the longest, most passionate kiss he had ever given her.

When they finally broke apart, Rebecca, who was swooning a little, whispered breathlessly, "You're hired."

Baloo, his cheek resting on hers, laughed softly in her ear. "I think I'm gonna like this job."

They shared another quick kiss before she shouted towards the door, "You can come in now, kids!"

Kit and Molly tumbled through the entryway where they had been standing with their little ears cemented to the door.

Rebecca stuffed papers in her briefcase. Brightly, she said, "I want you to get a lot of rest tonight, Baloo, because we're going shopping tomorrow." She chuckled. "I can't believe I told _you_ to get sleep!"

Baloo grimaced in distaste. Shopping was one of his least favorite activities. "Aw, do we hafta?"

"Yes, we have to. We need to do some preliminary wedding shopping. Six months doesn't give us very long to plan. I want to check out a few stores and compare prices on a few things." Rebecca wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "See you tomorrow."

He pulled her into his arms and returned her kiss. "See ya, sweetheart. Do we really hafta go shoppin'?"

Rebecca chuckled, giving him one last embrace. "Yes! And don't invent a silly excuse to get out of it either." After kissing Kit's cheek, with a "Goodnight, sweetie" she took Molly in one hand and her briefcase in the other. "I'll call you later, Baloo," she said, smiling, before closing the door.

_**Tiny's Grill**_

At first glance, Tiny's Grill appeared to be an average, upscale restaurant in the downtown area. However, things aren't always as they appear. Few denizens of Cape Suzette, least of all the police, knew that this particular place was the popular hangout of gangsters. Some of the most infamous names in organized crime drifted through Tiny's Grill - big names like Owl Capone, Heimlich Menudo, and Babyface Half-Nelson.

This evening, the restaurant was crowded with the dinner rush. Every high-backed booth was full, and there were a few people sitting at the bar. Behind the bar stood an extremely tall polar bear with very broad shoulders in a black tuxedo and red bow tie. It was the proprietor - Tiny. As he mixed drinks, his beady, hawk-like eyes flitted around the restaurant, making sure that his waiters were doing their jobs and making sure that there were no troublemakers. All of the customers were familiar except for a strange trio - a small alligator, a burly rhino, and a hulking ape - in the corner booth. Tiny's habitual frown deepened. This odd trio looked like riffraff to him. He decided to keep a sharp eye on them.

Trader Moe leaned back in his seat, straining to hear the conversation in the booth behind him. Because of all of the background chatter and silverware clattering against dishes, it was difficult, to say the least.

It didn't help that the two goons squeezed into the booth across from him were slurping noisily on lemonades.

"Where's we's goin' next, boss?" asked Rhino Goon loudly.

"Yeah, like where's we's goin'?" echoed Ape Goon, rattling the ice cubes around his empty glass.

"I thought we's were gonna hold up da Cape Suzette National Bank," said Rhino Goon.

"Do we's need chickens?" said Ape Goon, confused.

Trader Moe, who had a short temper to match his short stature, slapped the two goons across the noses with his floppy brown hat. "Shaddup, ya lunks! Cancha see I'm listenin'?"

In the booth behind them, a gravelly voice whispered, "To the right bidder, this stone could be very valuable. Worth thousands!"

A deep bass voice said, "But it ain't no real jewel." The voice grew slightly louder with skepticism. "How can a piece o' glass be worth somethin'?"

"Shh!" hissed the gravelly voice urgently. "See them markings on it? Here? An 'SK' in a circle? Shere Khan!"

Trader Moe's ears perked up at the mention of richest man in Cape Suzette.

"Shere Khan?" whispered the bass voice, impressed.

"Yeah...an' I bet he'll pay a pretty penny to get this ornament back."

"I bet Miniversal Corporation would pay a prettier penny to get their hands on it," the bass voice said, "just to get one up on Khan Industries."

Both voices chuckled ominously.

"We'll split the reward sixty-forty," said the bass voice.

"You wanna bet? I spent half my life in that harbor for the past year," protested the gravelly voice with a menacing undertone. "_I_ found it. That means _I_ get sixty percent plus a finder's fee of ten percent."

While the two voices argued, Trader Moe grinned. "We's gonna be rich as soon as we swipe dat stone! I got me a plan. I'll chat dese bozos up an' when I grab da stone, youse guys rough up dose two? Got it?"

"Uh? Which two?" asked Rhino Goon, scratching his head as he looked around the restaurant.

"Yeah, dere's lots of twos here," added Ape Goon.

"Which two do we two rough up, boss?" said Rhino Goon.

Trader Moe slapped his forehead. "Dose two guys sittin' in da booth behind me, ya peach pits!" he hissed loudly.

"Oh..._dose_ two!" Both goons grinned stupidly. In unison, they said, "What are we's s'posed ta do wid 'em?"

The alligator gritted his teeth. "Knock 'em out when I grab da stone!"

"Knock 'em out. We can do dat, boss," said Rhino Goon with a grin, swinging at Ape Goon's chest.

Ape Goon agreed. "Yeah, we're good at knocking out." He took a punch at Rhino Goon's jaw.

After an extended amount of time, both goons complained, "Ouch! Dat hurt!"

Trader Moe casually slid from the booth, grumbling to himself, "I gotta get me some new goons." He flashed a very toothy smile at the inhabitants of the adjoining booth - a scruffy tan bear in his thirties and an old panther with grey hair slicked back with oil. Both sported well-worn suits and ties. "We's don't have no pepper at our table. Ya's mind if we borrow yours?" he asked, eyeing the red stone clasped in the bear's paw.

Before they could answer, Trader Moe picked up the pepper cellar and dashed it in their eyes. Sneezing and yelping in pain, the bear dropped the stone. Swiftly, the alligator snatched it up and stowed it in his pocket.

Rhino Goon remembered, "Bonk their heads together on da count of three."

"One...two...what comes after two?" asked Ape Goon.

"Three!" shouted Trader Moe impatiently. "Three! Three!"

"Da boss said 'three'," said Rhino Goon.

Ape Goon counted on his beefy fingers. "Yeah, he said 'three', uh...more'n two times."

"Knock 'em out already, ya bozos! What are ya waitin' for? Sheesh!"

The two goons bonked the bear's and panther's heads together, causing them to slump to the floor.

Tiny stomped over to Trader Moe and his goons. He towered over the trio - even over the goons by a few inches - seething with indignant anger. Brawling wasn't allowed in his restaurant, because he didn't want publicity. Publicity meant exposure. Neither he nor his clientele wanted their popular hangout to be raided by the police.

He seized each of the goons by an arm and dragged them towards the exit. In a surprisingly high voice, he growled, "If you were lookin' for trouble, you found it. Don't let me ever catch ya's in here again." One after another, he tossed the goons into the alley where they crashed headlong into trash cans. Trader Moe sailed over their heads and smashed into the brick wall of the neighboring building.

After sliding to the ground, Trader Moe staggered to his feet. He was seeing miniature Tinys circling his head. Shaking his head to clear it, he said smugly, "I've been thrown outta better joints. Once we cash in dis stone, we'll come back an' buy his stupid restaurant just ta throw_ him_ out. C'mon, boys."

As was wise, no one in Tiny's Grill took notice of the proceedings, except for one of the waiters, a burly brown bulldog, who was moonlighting as an undercover informant.

The waiter hurried to the back room and picked up the phone. "Operator, get me Mr. Khan." He grinned, revealing his gold-capped canines, as he waited to be connected. He would be paid handsomely for this information.

_**Khan Towers  
**__**Later That Evening**_

Shere Khan, multi-billionaire and CEO of Khan Industries, stood at the gigantic ceiling-to-floor, wall-to-wall window in his opulent office. Much like an emperor surveying his dominion, he apathetically watched the peons of Cape Suzette go about their humdrum little lives. The automobile headlights on the streets far, far below looked like pinpoints of light from his perspective from the penthouse of Khan Towers, but that was how he liked it. His lofty position signified the successful completion of his goals of achieving unlimited wealth and power. It gave him great satisfaction to know that he was above everyone and everything else in Cape Suzette.

Another thing that gave him great satisfaction was the fact that his sub-electron amplifier had been located. Of course, he wouldn't be completely satisfied until he held it in his own two hands.

He crossed the room in purposeful strides to his desk and pushed the intercom button. "Mrs. Snarly, get me Leo Stedman."

The secretary's voice answered briskly, "Yes, Mr. Khan."

With a trace of a smile touching his lips, Shere Khan gave one last glance out the window before pushing the button that closed the heavy maroon drapes, blocking out the moonlit city. Soon he would have more money and power than even _he_ had ever dreamed of. All he needed was that stone.

End of part 1


	2. The Goonbye Stone

**The Return of the Stone  
****Part 2**

_**Downtown Cape Suzette  
**__**Friday  
**__**Mid-Morning**_

It was another beautiful day in the southwestern coastal city of Cape Suzette. The view of the bright sun and puffy white clouds was occasionally blotted out by a passing zeppelin or airplane. The downtown area was bustling with the usual workaday activities. Cars zoomed up and down the streets and people of all species walked in and out of the skyscrapers.Among the pedestrians traversing the sidewalks was a diminutive alligator overshadowed by a large ape and a big rhino. The trio was unaware of a figure trailing them.

"Dere it is, boys. Da stuff dat dreams are made of," said Trader Moe, grinning greedily at the plain cedar box in his hands.

"Uh, nice box, boss," said Rhino Goo, peeking over the alligator's head.

"What box is nice?" parroted Ape Goon.

"Ya ratchet heads! It's what's _in_ da box dat's valuable."

"What's in it?" asked Rhino Goon, mirroring Ape Goon's quizzical look.

Trader Moe threw an apprehensive glance to the right, then left to make sure no one was paying attention to them. "Da stone," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Oh..." said the goons in admiration. "What stone?"

"Da stone dat we..." Not watching where he was going, Trader Moe accidentally bumped into a shriveled up old lady raccoon wearing a bright pink dress with blazing orange polka dots, a straw hat adorned with a purple ostrich feather and a huge purple handbag.

"Police! Help!" she screamed shrilly, beating Trader Moe over the head with her purse.

WHAM!

"Ow! Sorry, lady!"

"_Police!_"

WHAM! WHAM!

Trader Moe attempted to ward off the woman's well-aimed, surprisingly painful, blows. "Hey, I said I was sorry, lady! _Ow!_"

Two policemen - a brown, mustached canine and a portly porcine - came running to the frail, helpless old lady's assistance.

"Stop, lawbreakers!" commanded the porcine policeman in an Irish accent while his partner blew on his whistle.

"Cheese it! It's da coppers!" said Trader Moe.

Seeing their boss flee down the sidewalk, the goons followed suit.

Meanwhile...

Baloo could think of a thousand things that he would rather be doing - flying, eating, sleeping, or maybe a combination of the three. Instead, he had to waste a perfectly perfect day shopping. He and his fiancée were perusing the goods in Fleeceworth's department store, which sold everything from abacuses to zippers. Or rather, Rebecca was perusing while Baloo stood nearby holding her purchases.

The big bear shifted the paper sacks in his hands. They were so heavy that the handles were cutting off the circulation to his fingers. If he hadn't had actually seen what Rebecca had bought, he would have sworn that he was lugging bowling balls and concrete blocks. He wished that a chair had been among her purchases. "Are we done yet, Beckers?" he asked for the umpteenth time.

"Stop complaining, Baloo," Rebecca said, leisurely fingering the hem of a curtain set. "We've only been to a few stores."

"A _few_ stores? We passed a few stores three years ago. We're up to a _ton_ of stores, an' I'm gettin' hungry."

"Don't be such a baby."

"Okay, then _you_ be the pack mule an' carry all these bags!"

"Fine." She relieved him of the smallest, lightest sack. "That better?"

"Oh, yeah, heaps," he mumbled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You know, Baloo, I like these curtains better than the ones we got at Richelieu's, and they're cheaper, too. Maybe we should exchange them and buy these."

"Tromp all the way across town? Forget it, lady!"

"But you said you didn't like those," Rebecca countered.

"I'm becomin' attached to 'em. Literally - from totin' 'em around for the past two hours."

"Well, I don't see anything that I like here."

"We're done?" Baloo said hopefully. He followed her to the exit with the bulging bags banging against his knees.

"Not by a long shot." Rebecca pulled a list from her purse. "We still haven't gone to Bianca's Bridal Boutique. It's just a few blocks away."

"Oh, my achin' hands!" Baloo groaned.

They stepped outside and started down the bustling sidewalk.

"Can we get a cab?" Baloo asked, feeling a bag slip from his fingers.

"For three blocks?" Rebecca scoffed.

The big bear stopped in his tracks. "Wait a half a sec, sweetheart. I'm losin' the one on my pinky."

"Right or left?"

"Uh...I pledge allegiance to the flag..." He awkwardly tried to lift his right hand to his heart, but it was so weighted down that he could only move it a few inches. "Both."

Unbeknownst to the two bears, Trader Moe and his goons were barreling towards them. The goons knocked people off their feet left and right like twin bowling balls knocking over bowling pins.

"Gotta stash this goody someplace safe," Trader Moe puffed, hugging the box as he skidded around a corner and skirted around other pedestrians. He shot a glance over his shoulder. The two policemen were only a few short steps behind.

"We's gonna get goodies?" asked Ape Goon, thundering down the sidewalk right behind his boss. "I like chocolate!"

Trader Moe slapped his forehead, forgetting that the box was in his hand. "Ow! Why don't youse two try intelligence sometimes?"

"Intelli-who?" asked Rhino Goon.

Ape Goon said, "Who's intelli-who?"

"Ya stupids! Intelligence means thinkin'."

Rhino Goon said, "Thinkin' is somethin' I try to avoid."

"Yeah," added Ape Goon, "thinkin' makes my head hurt."

"I'll make yer numbskull heads hurt," panted Trader Moe, itching to brain both of them - if they had brains. "Cops crawlin' all over everywheres. How are we s'posed to get away?" He knew that if he was caught with something of Shere Khan's, he would be worked over by Khan's hit-men before being incarcerated for life - whatever was left of it. Still running as fast as his short legs would go, he passed the box back to Rhino Goon. "Do somethin' wid this."

Rhino Goon passed it back to Ape Goon. "Do somethin' wid this."

"Do somethin'...oh..." Ape Goon, not having anyone to pass the box to, looked at it in confusion.

Rebecca and Baloo happened to be in the way when Trader Moe breezed by. The goons plowed right into the big bear, who went flying into the gutter with a "WHOA!".

All of the bags and their contents scattered to the ground. In what he thought was a brilliant flash of insight, Ape Goon shoved the jewelry box into one of the shopping bags.

"Hoo, boy! Did anyone get the number of that piano?" Baloo gasped out, putting a hand to his head.

"Well, I never!" Rebecca said huffily, helping Baloo to his feet. She picked up the heavy sacks and hooked them over his wrists. "Some people have absolutely no consideration for others."

Trader Moe and the goons scooted into an alley. At the end was a solid brick wall. "Shoot! Dead end."

Without further delay, the goons whipped out their handguns and fired a few rounds at the wall.

"We shot at the dead end, boss," droned Rhino Goon.

"Yeah, we shot it good," said Ape Goon with an inane giggle.

Hearing the gunshots, a policeman exclaimed, "They're in that alley!"

"You dodo brains! Now da cops know where we are." The only way to escape was up and over. "Toss me over da wall."

"Okay, boss."

"Whatever ya say, boss."

The goons each took Trader Moe by an arm and threw him as hard as they could. He sailed over the wall with several feet to spare. "I meant gennntttlleeeee!" He slid on his stomach before stopping. "I gotta get me some new goons." Rubbing his raw nose, he got to his feet dizzily. "C'mon, ya pinheads!"

Ape Goon, then Rhino Goon, scrambled over the wall. They both landed on Trader Moe, who said, "OW!" both times.

On the other side of the wall, the policeman with the Irish accent said, "I could have sworn they were here."

The second policeman answered, "Me, too. Let's try down the street." Their rapid footsteps receded.

"Boss?" Rhino Goon said, looking around for Trader Moe.

"Under...here!" came the alligator's muffled voice.

"Are we's playin' hide-and-seek?" Ape Goon clapped his hands. "I get to hide next!"

Trader Moe squirmed out from under the hulking goons, folded up almost like an accordion. He popped his back and his posture returned to normal. "Yeah, I'll hide you, all right. We gotta hide dat stone!"

A stupid smile of self-satisfaction crossed Ape Goon's face. "I already hid it real good, boss."

"Whattaya mean, ya _hid_ it? Where?"

"In a sack. Da cops will never find it."

The alligator hopped up and down in rage and bit at the brim of his hat. "Ya banana peel! _We'll_ never find it! Dat stone was worth at least a hundred big ones."

"A hundred?" Rhino Goon echoed. "Dat's way more than ten, ain't it?"

Ape Goon appeared abashed. "Oops. Sorry, boss."

"Aargh! Ya dodo brains! Did ya see who was holdin' da sack?"

"A big man an' a small woman." Ape Goon scratched his head. "Or was it a big woman an' a small man?"

"Wait, boss," Rhino Goon said slowly. "I think I saw da pilot who landed us in da slammer for stealin' da Krunchyboar Crown. The one with the name like a color."

"Five?" Ape Goon suggested.

"Naw, it was more like," Rhino Goon looked up at the sky; "blue."

Trader Moe's beady eyes narrowed. "Baloo again? What a coinky-dink. An' we know where he lives. Dat stone is as good as ours. C'mon, ya stupids!"

_**That Evening  
**__**The Cunninghams' Apartment**_

Rebecca sat at the kitchen table with the telephone cradled between her shoulder and ear. She flipped through a wedding dress catalog that she had picked up earlier that day. Pen in hand, she circled each dress that appealed to her. She said, "Oh, I like this one!"

"Can I see it?" asked Baloo over the telephone.

"Of course, you can't see it, Baloo. It's bad luck for the groom to see the wedding dress before the wedding."

"Please, Beckers, with a cherry on top? Pleeeease, honey? Sweetie-pie?"

"Nice try, flyboy, but no amount of _sweet-_talk will make me change my mind."

"I'll let ya do my laundry."

Rebecca giggled at his idea of a bribe. "That's tempting, but...no."

She flipped to the next page and her eyes were drawn to the dress of her dreams. It was a strapless, floor-length, ivory organza dress that would accentuate her slender curves. The flowing skirt, which gracefully clung to the hips, featured a small train. Around the top of the bodice and the bottom of the skirt was lace edging in the shapes of tiny flowers and curlicues; the edging happened to be in her favorite color - light pink. She could just imagine how beautiful she would look in it, not to mention Baloo's reaction. His eyes would pop out of his head.

Then, catching a glimpse at the price, she bit her lower lip. It was exorbitant! It was outrageous! But the dress _was_ gorgeous. Surely it was worth the price. Casually, she asked, "Do you think two hundred dollars is too much?"

"For a _DRESS_?" Baloo roared, nearly blasting her eardrums out.

"You wasted one hundred dollars on that sticky banana record. What's the difference?"

"The difference is that record's a classic."

"I know it's a classic. It gives me a classic headache every time I hear it."

Baloo growled, "Of all the things ta spend two hundred smackers on - a dress you'll wear once. Do ya know what we could buy with that kind of loot? A new pontoon for one thing, or that icebox for the _Duck_. I'd get lotsa use out of _those_ things. An' where are we gonna get that kind of moolah? We _ain't_ gonna cash in our insurance on the _Sea Duck_ again, Rebecca!"

Carefully tearing the page from the catalog, Rebecca murmured uncertainly, "Well, maybe something will just pop up, like a very profitable cargo delivery."

"Do ya absotutely _hafta_ have it?"

"No, I don't _have_ to have it." She stared at the dress with a wistful expression. "But it sure would be nice."

Molly, all ready for bed in her pink pajamas, rushed into the room with a plain cedar box in her hands. She slid under the phone cord, climbed onto her mother's lap, and chirped, "Hi, Baloo!" into the telephone. "Mommy, lookit what I found."

"I'm on the phone, honey," she admonished. "Can't this wait 'til later?"

The little girl shook her head vehemently. "Later's past my bedtime. You're _always_ on the phone with Baloo. Can I call him daddy now?"

That abrupt, unexpected question incited bittersweet feelings in Rebecca. She was glad that Molly wanted to call her future stepfather 'daddy'; it proved how much the little girl loved and trusted Baloo. However, it also brought back unbidden memories of her first husband, a wonderful man who had died when Molly could barely lisp 'daddy'.

Her eyes shining with unshed tears, Rebecca tenderly stroked Molly's golden hair, hair that was the same shade as her late husband's. She explained quietly, "Now, honey, I told you that Baloo won't be your daddy until we're married."

Sticking her lower lip out in a pout, Molly whined, "Aw, but that's a long, long, long, _long_ time away."

"It'll come faster than you think." Giving her daughter a hug, Rebecca smiled and blinked the tears from her eyes. "What did you have to show me?"

Molly opened the jewelry box. Inside, nestled on the dark blue velvet was the sub-electron amplifier. Its clear-cut facets reflected the lamplight.

Rebecca's jaw dropped as she dropped the receiver.

"Becky? Hello?" Baloo's voice said from the telephone on the table.

The bearess carefully picked up the stone and cradled it in her palm. Turning it over, she saw Shere Khan's miniature emblem. "We're rich," she whispered. Then louder, she said, "We're rich!"

"_Rebecca_!" Baloo bellowed.

Rebecca snatched the receiver up, saying excitedly, "Baloo, look what Molly found!"

"Becky, I can't see nothin'. _Telephone_, remember?"

She gushed, "We're rich, darling!"

"Huh? Did ya win the Pazuza sweepstakes again? I'll mail yer ticket for ya SSDIDUG this time. Honest engines."

Exasperated, Rebecca explained slowly, "No, silly. Molly found Shere Khan's stone - the sub-electron amplifier."

"Are ya sure?"

"I'm pretty sure." She traced her finger over the encircled 'SK'. "Shere Khan's emblem is engraved on it."

Nothing but stunned silence at the other end of the line.

"Baloo? Hello? Are you there?" Rebecca ventured.

"We're rich!" he yelled joyfully. "We're rich! WAHOO!"

"We're rich?" Kit's voice said wonderingly. "_Papa Bear!_" Baloo had tossed the boy up in the air.

He instructed excitedly, "Don't let that little goldmine outta yer sight, Beckers. Me an' Kit are comin' right over."

Click! went the phone.

Baloo made record time getting to the Cunninghams' apartment, because, only five minutes later, he pounded on the door. "Becky, it's us!"

Rebecca flung the door open.

"Where is it?" Baloo asked eagerly, his eyes darting around the large living room.

"Where's what?" She, clasping the stone behind her back, feigned innocence.

"The stone! Shere Khan's electronic simplifier."

Giggling, Rebecca held out her hand.

Baloo grabbed the stone from her and kissed it repeatedly.

"Hey!" Rebecca said, hands on hips, pretending to be jealous. "Who are you marrying? Me or that rock?"

He handed the stone to Kit, dipped Rebecca, and planted a big kiss on her lips.

"Where did you find it?" Kit asked, staring with amazement at the stone. "I thought it blew up with Karnage's lightning gun."

Molly said, "I found it in a jewelry box that Mommy bought me."

Still in Baloo's arms, Rebecca flashed a confused glance up at her fiancé. "I didn't buy a jewelry box, did I, Baloo?"

"Dunno, honey. I lost track after the first five stores. But who cares? The important thing is that it's here now, an' we're gonna be rich!" He twirled Rebecca until she plumped down, giggling, in an armchair. "We'll take this little baby over to Khanny first thing in the mornin', an' collect our one hundred thousand smackers!"

"A hundred thousand smackers!" Molly echoed happily, throwing herself at the big bear. "Is that a lot, Baloo?"

"You better believe it, Button-nose!" He tossed the giggling girl into the air.

"If he still wants it back," Kit said softly, looking the stone over with a critical eye. Unlike the others, he wasn't going to get his hopes up yet about the money. Something was fishy about the whole situation. There were too many unanswered questions. How did the jewelry box get into Rebecca's shopping bag? And where did the stone come from? Was it really Shere Khan's stone or an imitation?

Rebecca said, "Of course he'll want it back, Kit, but we can't take it over first thing. You have that delivery in the morning, Baloo."

Crestfallen, the big bear protested, "But..."

"Higher for Hire can't afford to lose another customer."

Grinning confidently, Baloo snatched the stone from Kit and tossed it in the air like a gangster flipping a coin. "With this little baby in our possession, we can."

"No." The bearess shook her head; unbending resolve was fixed on her face. "We're going to keep this client, stone or no stone."

"Okay, as soon as I get back, we'll take it over." Baloo wrapped his arms around Rebecca and the cubs, hugging them tightly. "We're rich!"

Unnoticed by the four bears, at the window overlooking the rushing waterfall was a mysterious, black-clad figure hanging onto the glass with suction cups. Through the ski mask, the dark eyes stared steadily at the stone.

End of part 2


	3. Enter the Spy

**The Return of the Stone  
****Part 3**

_**Higher for Hire  
**__**Saturday Morning**_

Rebecca poured herself a second cup of coffee and added a spoonful of sugar to it. Stirring her coffee absently, she gazed out the window over the sink at the dewy freshness of the young day. When she heard a 'clink' against the cup's handle, she awoke from her pleasant reverie to smile down at her engagement ring; the diamond sparkled almost as brightly as her eyes. She thought to herself, _Baloo and Kit have nice weather for their delivery of Yippee-Skippee Peanut Butter and Schmucker's Jelly. _As she headed for her office, she found herself impatient for her flight crew's return although they had been gone only an hour.

Just as the door swung shut behind her, a middle-aged, svelte lion in a three-piece navy suit cautiously peeked in the kitchen window. His shrewd brown eyes took in the small room in a discerning glance. He pushed the sash up and vaulted over the sill with practiced ease, landing lightly on his expensively shod feet. This was going to be the simplest assignment that he, Leo Stedman, had ever been on.

Leo Stedman was Shere Khan's super-secret secret agent. The best in his business. The créme de la créme. He was a master of disguise. Stealth incarnate. He could blend in anywhere, impersonate anyone. He spoke forty-seven languages fluently, knew the customs of every culture, worked with the cunningness of a fox and the swiftness of an eagle. He was as the wind - able to appear and vanish in the blink of an eye.

And he had an ego large enough to encompass all that greatness.

He flashed a toothy grin at his reflection in the bottom of a copper pot and smoothed down a few loose wisps of his thick, tawny mane. Satisfied with his handsome, almost dandified, appearance, he slunk to the door leading to the office, pushed it open silently, and put his eye to the crack. He smiled patronizingly to himself when he saw the bearess take the stone - his objective - from the jewelry box and lock it in a wall safe. No mere safe could keep him from completing his mission.

Rebecca shut the safe door and turned the knob. "There," she said, dusting her hands off. "Now I feel safer." The telephone rang and she answered it. "Good morning. This is Higher for Hire..."

Stedman, staring at the bearess's back, believed that this was going to be so pitifully easy that he could have pulled the job off in his sleep. All he had to do was get the stone without being seen.

He pushed the door open just enough to admit his wiry body and crouched behind a large potted palm. The safe was a few feet to his right, a little above his head. He would have to bide his time until he was alone - all day, if necessary.

His attention was arrested by Rebecca exclaiming, "Oh, Baloo!" From the bottom desk drawer, she removed the half-eaten remains of a sandwich. The bread was green and fuzzy, the lettuce was brown, and the ham was speckled with black mold. Holding the rancid sandwich at arm's length, she rushed to the kitchen, muttering, "That bear has to learn that my desk is _not_ a refrigerator! We're going to have a long talk when he gets home!"

It was the chance Leo Stedman had been waiting for. He sprang to the safe and fiddled with the knob, ear to the door. The first number clicked. The second. He rotated the knob slowly to the left, listening intently.

"Hello," said a little voice.

Stedman spun around. Reflexively, his right hand flew inside his suit jacket to grasp his handgun. Every muscle in his body was tense, ready to fight or flee from his adversary. His eyes panned around the room, but he saw no one.

"Hi," said the little voice again.

He looked down. His adversary turned out to be a little yellow bearess carrying a doll. He relaxed, but not much. Donning a facade of sweetness and decency as another would don a suit of clothes, he affixed a convincing charming smile on his handsome face. "Hello, little girl," he crooned in a cultured voice that made most women forget their names.

However, neither the voice nor the smile worked their magic on this little girl.

"Are you one of my mommy's customers?" Molly asked, wondering why he had been messing with the safe.

The agent nodded, still smiling. He had no problem staring down other spies, but, for some unexplained reason, he quailed under the candid innocence of this child's brown eyes. Of course, with all of his expensive, extensive training, his expression didn't betray it.

"What do you make?"

Leo Stedman blurted out the first thing he saw. "Paperclips."

"Paperclips? That sounds neat." Molly climbed into her mother's chair, then onto the desktop. She picked up a paperclip. Trying to trip this so-called customer up, she said, "I got a question. How do you fold 'em like this?"

"We have machines to do that," he replied, warily watching the kitchen door in his peripheral vision. He couldn't afford to be caught. His reputation would be wasted, and after Shere Khan dealt with him, his entire _body_ would be wasted. Quickly, he thought up a scheme to escape from the building. He would get the stone later. "Where's your bathroom, little girl?"

"Upstairs. I'll show you." As they both ascended the stairs, Molly prattled on. "It's the first room. The one next to it is Baloo and Kit's bedroom."

"That's nice."

"They'll fly your...what did you say you made again?" Molly fixed her shrewd, suspicious gaze on him.

Almost imperceptibly, he fiddled with the handle of the switchblade in his pocket, but he said confidently, "Paperclips."

Molly was disappointed. He really was a customer. There went her plan to lock him in the bathroom. "Yeah, they'll fly your paperclips wherever you want."

Maintaining his fake smile despite a deep desire to dispose of the chattering child who had put a wrench in his pitifully simple mission, he said coolly, "That's good."

"Baloo's the best pilot in the world," Molly stated proudly. "Did you know he's gonna be my daddy?"

"Sounds cozy." He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming, "Go away!" and jammed his hands in his pants pockets to keep from pushing her over the banister.

"And Kit's gonna be my brother."

"That's nice." Averting his face from the girl, he rolled his eyes. _Family, schmamily, _he thought irately.

"Yeah, Kit is nice. He likes to play Danger Woman with me."

"_Danger_ Woman?" Stedman echoed with a blank stare.

"You don't know who Danger Woman is? She's only the fastest, strongest, bestest superhero in the entire universe! I'll show you what she wears." Molly sped off to get her Danger Woman costume.

Leo Stedman shut the bathroom door with a sigh of relief. _I thought I'd never get away from that brat._ He wrenched open the window and looked down. It was a straight shot to the paving stones below. That didn't faze him. It would be a walk in the park compared to scaling Mt. Neverrest single-handedly without ropes in a blizzard. He swung one leg over the sill, then the other. He lowered himself, finding handholds and toeholds in the crevices between boards. Halfway down the 'lighthouse', he stopped. Two big burly goon-types accompanied by a short alligator were directly beneath him; he recognized them as the people he had trailed the day before.

Hearing a high-pitched beeping, the agent looked at the ring on his left pinky. The large, square ruby was flashing. Peeking over his shoulder at the trio, he thought irately, _What a horrible time for a phone call from the big boss!_

Rhino Goon peered into the elm tree as they skirted the building. "Weird birds dey got here."

"Yeah, weird," agreed Ape Goon; he didn't have a clue what his counterpart was talking about.

"Will you two weirdos stop yappin' about da birds?" Trader Moe peeked into the office window. Rebecca was seated behind her desk and the jewelry box was right in front of her. "Whattaya know? Dere's da box. For once you twos did somethin' right."

At the rare praise from their boss, Ape Goon chuckled sheepishly while Rhino Goon, blushing, said, "Gee, dat's real nice of ya, boss."

"Real nice," Ape Goon parroted, grinning.

"Enough with da nice!" Trader Moe whispered loudly, 'wiping' the stupid grins from the goons' faces with his floppy, brown hat. "We ain't here fer nice! We're here fer da stone! Break down da door."

The goons broke down the door - literally. One punch from both of the goons' beefy fists and the bottom hinge busted, leaving the door to swing wildly inward at an odd angle. Startled at the loud cracking noise, Rebecca quickly looked up from her work.

"Hand over da box, lady," Trader Moe snarled with a sneer.

Rebecca grabbed the jewelry box and hugged it to her chest. She backed towards the kitchen door. "Give me one good reason!"

"I'll give ya's two good reasons." With a snap of his fingers, two semi-automatic rifles were pointed directly at her courtesy of the goons.

She gulped as she held out the box with shaking hands.

Trader Moe snatched it up. "Tie her up, boys."

Rebecca's hands and heels were swiftly bound together. She was set roughly on the floor in front of her desk.

Hearing the ruckus, Molly, clad as Danger Woman in her red blanket cape and colander hat, shouted as she clattered down the stairs, "Leave my mommy alone or else!"

Trader Moe laughed scornfully. "Or else what, pipsqueak?"

"This!" Molly kicked the alligator's shins, causing him to drop the box.

He hopped around the room, yelping in pain. "Grab her!"

Molly scooped up the box. Holding it under her arm like a football, she ran for the door; but was stopped when Ape Goon picked her up by the scruff of the neck; she kicked her legs in an attempt to escape from her captor.

Rhino Goon wrenched the box away from her vise-like grip. "Strong kid, but not strong enough." Flicking her colander hat from her head, he laughed in her face.

Scowling, Molly bit Rhino Goon's nose.

"Ouch!"

Ape Goon wrapped the red blanket securely around Molly's wriggling form and stuck the hem of it in her mouth.

"Ah, da sounds of silence," Trader Moe chuckled evilly. "Load 'em in da car, boys. We're takin' dese _hostages_ for a ride."

Rebecca and Molly exchanged frightened glances.

_**Outside**_

Leo Stedman, who had been casing Higher for Hire from the luxurious accommodations of the interior of the trash can, witnessed the mass exodus of two goons carrying two bearesses. Behind them was a short alligator, barking out orders and toting a box. It was the moment he had been waiting for - again. He could almost hear the well-deserved praise from Shere Khan for the successful completion of another mission, not to mention the pile of cash that he would receive. But first he had to return a phone call.

On his ring, he pushed the tiny gold star inset in the center of the large, square ruby. A small antenna unfurled from the ruby. Quick beeping indicated that the number was being dialed.

Without a preliminary greeting, Shere Khan asked languidly, "Do you have it?"

"Not yet, Mr. Khan, but it is within reach."

"Good. Call me when you get it."

"Yes, sir." Stedman once again pushed the gold star, causing the antenna to retract.

However, before he could climb out of the trash can, the lid opened and an extremely oily oil filter dropped on top of him.

"Oh, my hair!" wailed Stedman very unprofessionally.

Hearing the noise, Wildcat peeked into the trash can and saw the oil-covered spy. "Sorry. Didn't know that this was your trash can." He put the lid down and walked off.

Grumbling, Leo Stedman emerged from the trash, trying to brush sludge off of his expensive suit. He only managed to smear it around worse. Streaks of oil streamed down his hair and over his face. Walking into the office through the sagging door, he faced a dilemma - wash his hair or get the stone. There was no question in his mind. The stone wasn't going anywhere. He ran upstairs to the bathroom to wash up.

A few minutes later, Stedman pulled his dripping head out of the sink when he heard the _Sea Duck's_ engines. He brushed his sopping wet hair from his eyes and listened intently. A door slammed. Two male voices - a deep, gruff voice and a higher boyish voice - grew closer. _Drat!_ _This place is busier than Grande Central Station,_ he thought angrily.

Naturally calm Leo Stedman was becoming really steamed. This mission was supposed to be simple - grab the stone without being seen. How could he prevent being seen when there were always people around? He rued the fact that his boss had explicitly told him not to kill anyone on this mission. Bumping off a few people would have made it so much easier. He snatched a can of hairspray and a comb from a shelf. For the second time that day, the agent went to the window, shoved the hair care items in his pocket, and climbed out.

As the lion exited by the bathroom window, two bears entered by the office door.

"Hey, Becky, we're home on time! Ain't ya proud of me?" Baloo stubbed his toe on the colander. "_Yeowch!_ Man, Molly's gotta learn ta pick up her toys!"

"Maybe Miz Cunningham's over at Wildcat's to get him to fix the door," Kit suggested, prodding at the sagging door with one finger, a questioning expression on his face.

"Swell," Baloo murmured, hobbling across the room. He sank into his easy chair and propped his feet up on a crate. "It figures that when I'm on time, she ain't even here."

Kit picked up the _Cape Suzette Tribune_ from Rebecca's desk. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Snatching it up, he read it twice before exclaiming, "You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

"What? Did the Sox lose?"

"Baseball in January? No, Rebecca and Molly have been kidnapped."

At the word 'kidnapped', Baloo sat straight up in his chair. He crossed the room in a few strides. "Karny again? Didn't we just go through that rigmarole last week?"

Kit shook his head. "This time it's Trader Moe, Papa Bear."

He snatched the paper from Kit and squinted at the cramped writing. "Man, he spells worse'n me!"

_We's got da ladee and kid. If yas want 'em back alive, bring a tousand bucks to da werehouse on da corner of Crawford and River Streets. No coppers or dey die._

_Veree serously yers,  
__Trader Moe_

"All right, Li'l Britches. Looks like we gotta save the gals again. Man, kidnapped twice in two weeks? That's gotta be a record or somethin'."

"It's getting so old," Kit sighed wearily as they hurried out to Rebecca's grey car.

_**Salazar's Seafood Warehouse**_

Down by the wharves, across from the cannery, was the warehouse district. A sign creaked above the door of one particular warehouse. On the sign was a peeling picture of a mackerel sandwiched between faded letters that spelled out 'Salazar's Seafood'. A stale odor of fish, brine, and dust emanated from the weathered boards of the old wooden building. At first glance it appeared abandoned, but, from the scuffling and shrieking inside, one could tell that it was inhabited - at least for the day.

Rebecca's indignant shout of "Don't you dare hurt her, you big bullies!" came from within.

"Ya got dat backwards, lady! Dat spitfire's da one dat's hurtin' _us_!" Big bruises and a few bleeding wounds on the kidnappers attested to where Molly had bit, scratched, pinched, and pulled their fur when they attempted to bind her with ropes.

Once subdued and tied up, Molly was shoved into a small closet beside her mother.

Pointing a gun at the hostages, Trader Moe threatened, "I don't wanna hear one peep outta youse two."

"Peep," Molly murmured derisively and stuck out her tongue.

"Do ya want dat tongue blown off?" Trader Moe snarled.

With wide eyes, the girl quickly shook her head and withdrew her tongue.

"Dat's better." He slammed the door shut, leaving the bearesses in darkness. Only a few slivers of pale light glimmered through the chinks in the walls.

"Mommy, I don't like this place," Molly said softly, scooting over to lean against her mother.

"I know, sweetie. Be brave like Danger Woman," Rebecca cooed, working with cramped fingers at the knots that bound her daughter's wrists.

"Shaddup in dere!" Trader Moe yelled, pounding on the door. He didn't like to be interrupted when he was gloating over his latest 'acquisition'. "Gimmee da stone."

Ape Goon opened the jewelry box, but it was empty. He stared down at it stupidly. "Oops."

"Whattaya mean 'oops'?" Trader Moe seized the box from Ape Goon's hands. Seeing that it was empty, his face turned a brilliant shade of purple. "_Where's dat stone!_" he roared. He tore the lining out and shook it upside down. Infuriated, he beat the goons across the noses with the box before hurling it across the room. "Youse blockheads! Can't do nuthin' right!" He flung the closet door open, demanding, "Where's da stone, lady?"

"What stone?" Rebecca said innocently. "The only stone I know about is my engagement ring, and you'll take it over my dead body!"

"Which can be arranged," Trader Moe said darkly. He slammed the door shut. "I'm goin' back to dat office. I bet she hid it somewheres. Youse two stay here and watch dose two."

"Okey-dokey," both goons said, grinning stupidly.

Rhino Goon opened the closet door. Both goons stared at the bearesses, who stared back.

"What are ya doin', ya chuckle heads?" Trader Moe spat.

"Watchin' da two bears like ya told us to," the big rhino answered.

"Yeah, watchin' good."

Trader Moe slammed the closet door shut, causing the goons to jump in startled surprise. "Not like dat! Keep da door shut!"

Perplexed, Rhino Goon said, "But how are we s'posed ta watch 'em with da door shut? We can't see 'em."

"Da door's in da way," added Ape Goon.

Trader Moe ground his teeth together. "AGH! Make sure dey don't escape from dat room. Got it?"

"Got it," answered Rhino Goon.

"Yeah, we's gots it."

"An' keep dat closet door shut! Remember dat!"

Both goons nodded like bobbing-head dolls. "We'll remember, boss."

_**Outside the Warehouse**_

A grey sedan pulled up beside the warehouse. Baloo and Kit got out and warily walked around to the front of the building.

"What's our plan, Papa Bear?"

"I'm thinkin', kiddo. What we need is a dumb plan ta outsmart those dummies."

"_Outsmart_," Kit scoffed. "That's an oxymoron."

"Moron's right," mumbled Baloo.

They ducked behind a pile of crates when Trader Moe exited the building.

"Remember, youse two keep an eye on da hostages."

"Which eye? Right or left?" Rhino Goon wondered.

"What do we do wid da other eye?" Ape Goon asked.

"Just...agh!" Trader Moe gnashed his teeth. "I need new goons! Wonder if Goons R We's have any available." He stomped to his car, got in, slammed the door angrily, and sped away.

"Now's our chance," murmured Kit.

"I got me a brainstorm. What we do is..." Baloo whispered his plan into the boy's ear.

A few minutes later...

"Open up!" shouted Baloo authoritatively, pounding on the door with his fist. "Warehouse inspectors."

Rhino Goon opened the door a crack and peered out at the two bears. He pointed an accusing finger at them. "Hey, youse don't look like inspectors."

"Who don't look like inspectors?" Ape Goon asked, throwing open the door. He also glared down at the two bears. "Yeah, youse don't look like inspectors!"

"We're undercover inspectors," Kit supplied confidently in an affected deep voice. "We handle surprise inspections. If we looked like inspectors, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"

"Hey," Rhino Goon said slowly. "Don't we's know yas from someplace? Ya's look familiar."

"Dey do?" asked Ape Goon.

"Yeah, dey's do."

"Do you know any warehouse inspectors?" said Baloo.

"No." Rhino Goon shook his head.

"Well, then, ya don't know us," Kit said.

While the goons were puzzling this out, Baloo said, "Let us in, or we'll report you to the uh...Bureau of Better Warehouses."

"Yeah, and they'll confiscate your warehouse," added Kit with a covert wink at Baloo.

"Confiscate?" Both goons looked at the bears blankly. They weren't familiar with that word. In fact, they weren't familiar with _any_ word containing more than two syllables.

"We'll take it away. Warehouse goes bye-bye," Kit clarified.

"Don't take our warehouse!" Rhino Goon exclaimed.

Ape Goon added, "Da boss wouldn't like dat!"

Once inside the warehouse, Baloo bellowed, "_Becky!_"

"Baloo?" came Rebecca's muffled, relieved reply.

"Whatcha doin'?" inquired Rhino Goon.

"Checkin' the warehouse acoustics," Baloo averred, nervously eyeing the handles of guns protruding from the goons' pockets. "Can't have a warehouse without proper acoustics, ya know. Violation of the warehouse code."

"Yeah, it's got a real good echo. It passes." Kit, making a checkmark on his left hand with his right forefinger, cleared his throat to hide a laugh. "Show us around."

Baloo and Kit pretended to note the solidness of the structural beams and the soundness of the floorboards. What they were really interested in, however, was a door in the corner.

Deducing that the two bearesses must be in there, Baloo ordered, "Open it up."

"Da boss told us not to open da door," Rhino Goon said stubbornly, blocking the door with his stocky form.

"Yeah, what he said." Ape Goon also stood in front of the door.

Baloo shook his head sadly. "That's too bad, because if you don't open that door and let us _inspectors_ see what's inside, your warehouse will be automatically confiscated."

"Warehouse go bye-bye," Kit clarified.

A look of fear crossed Ape Goon's face. "Warehouse go bye-bye?"

"And, boy, would your boss be sore at you," Kit added.

"All right, but da boss won't like it." Reluctantly, Rhino Goon opened the door. Inside were Rebecca and Molly, whose faces broke into big smiles at the sight of their rescuers.

Kit put a finger to his lips to warn the Cunninghams to be quiet.

"Do you have a permit for storin' people?" Baloo asked sternly.

"P...permit?" stuttered Ape Goon, throwing a confused and guilty glance at his counterpart.

"Da boss didn't say nothin' about no permit," added Rhino Goon.

Baloo solemnly shook his head. "No permit, huh? Tsk, tsk, tsk. I'll have to report that to the Bureau of Better Warehouses."

"No permit, no people," Kit said.

Molly stifled a giggle at Kit's unnaturally deep voice. The boy winked at her, shaking his head.

"Accordin' ta section ABD123 of the official warehouse manual, ya hafta let those people go," Baloo stated.

Kit nodded seriously. "Or we'll take your warehouse."

"An' yer boss will be sore at you," Baloo reminded.

Both goons were frightened. Trader Moe's anger was a terrible sight to behold.

"Go! Go! We gotta save da warehouse for da boss," said Rhino Goon, untying the hostages and escorted them out of the warehouse.

"You did the right thing," Baloo said. With difficulty, he repressed a smile of relief.

"We'll give the Bureau of Better Warehouses a good report about this warehouse. Thank you for your time," Kit said, heading for the exit.

Both of the 'inspectors' gravely shook hands with the goons before leaving.

"Dat was close!" Ape Goon sighed with relief when the door closed behind the two bears.

"Almost lost da warehouse. Da boss wouldn't like dat," said Rhino Goon, leaning heavily against the door.

"He wouldn't like dat _at all_," added Ape Goon solemnly.

Outside...

"I can't believe that worked!" Kit exclaimed with a grin as wide as the ocean on his face.

"Race you to the car, Kit!" Molly shouted. She was glad to be able to move around freely again. Both cubs ran as fast as they could to the grey automobile.

"If those goons get any dumber, they won't remember how to breathe," muttered Baloo. He wrapped an arm around Rebecca's waist. "You gals okay?"

"We are now, Baloo," Rebecca said softly with a grateful smile up at him. She wrapped her arm around his waist as best as she could and rested her head against him.

After they had gotten in the car, Baloo brushed the hair back from Rebecca's forehead.

Perplexed by his actions, the bearess asked, "What are you doing, Baloo?"

"Seein' if ya have 'kidnap me' tattooed on yer face. I swear, Becky, ya get kidnapped, 'cause you like bein' rescued by me."

"I do not!" Rebecca retorted, crossing her arms across her chest.

Baloo started the car and made a U-turn back towards town. Shooting an infuriating smirk in her direction, he rejoined, "You do, too."

"I do not!"

"You do, too!"

In the backseat, Kit rolled his eyes and Molly giggled at the adults' petty bickering.

_**Higher for Hire**_

"Last stop. Everybody out," Baloo said, turning off the car's ignition. Getting out, he asked, "By the way, Beckers, what happened to the door anyhoo? Was Wildcat foolin' around with the motor-trike again?"

"Those stupid goons tore it off its hinges," Rebecca muttered sullenly, "when they broke in."

"Yeah, it's _broken_ all right," Baloo chuckled.

"Papa Bear, wasn't Trader Moe coming _here_ to look for the stone?" Kit remembered, tugging on the hem of the big bear's shirt.

"You're right, Li'l Britches. I better check it out. You guys stay out here," Baloo told Rebecca and the cubs.

He peeked around the sagging door. The office seemed empty. There wasn't a sound except his own breathing and the ticking of the grandfather clock. Baloo exhaled a sigh of relief and motioned to Rebecca. "All clear."

When all four bears were in the office, Trader Moe snarled, "Think again."

End of part 3


	4. Who's Got the Stone?

**The Return of the Stone  
****Part 4**

_**Higher for Hire**_

Trader Moe, with a gun in one hand and the stone in the other, stepped out from behind the desk. "All right, hands up, everyone, nice an' high where I can see 'em. You too, blondie." He warily watched Molly eye his shins. "Go an' sit on da stairs."

Slowly, the foursome inched over to the stairs and sat down, all with their hands in the air.

"Wave bye-bye," Trader Moe said as he sprinted from the office. He hurried to his shiny black Doozyburg and got behind the wheel. Tossing the gun on the passenger seat, he slammed the door shut. "Hee-hee! Nothin' can stop me now."

Just as he reached to turn the key in the ignition, there was a 'click' - the cock of a gun trigger.

"Hand over the sub-electron amplifier," said a quiet, menacing male voice from the backseat.

Trader Moe's eyes turned to find a gun pointed at his head. On the other end of that gun was a grim-faced lion with damp, matted hair, who smelled faintly of oil. "I ain't got no sub-electron amplifier."

"You have it right there in your hand. The stone."

"Oh, is dat what dis is?" He looked down at the sharp point on the top of the stone. An evil plan whirled in his mind.

"No sudden moves," murmured Leo Stedman, catching the scheming glint in the alligator's eyes, "or you'll activate the pressure-sensitive bomb that I planted under your seat."

"B...bomb?" stammered Trader Moe; his beady eyes grew wider.

"Move one muscle and BOOM!" Leo Stedman carefully took the stone from Trader Moe's hand and climbed out of the car very, very slowly. He got into a sporty silver Porche that was parked a little ways down the street and sped off.

Mindful of the bomb, Trader Moe sat as still as a mouse. Then, through the open window, flew a fly. Sweat beading on his forehead, he watched as the fly circled his head and buzzed in his ears. "Shoo!" he whispered through clenched teeth.

He exhaled a sigh of relief when the fly left through the window. A second later, the fly returned and alighted on his nose. Trader Moe wriggled his nose in an attempt to get rid of the fly, but the insect wouldn't budge. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Then, horror of horrors, he felt a sneeze coming on. He clamped his mouth shut and held his breath, but to no avail.

"Ah-ah-ah-ah-_choo!_"

Trader Moe kept his eyes shut in anticipation of the searing pain, the big BOOM, but it didn't come. He opened one eye, then the other. He and his car were still in one piece. "No bomb? Why that dirty so-an'-so!" Starting the car, he grumbled, "No one steals from Trader Moe an' gets away with it, an' no one tricks Trader Moe an' lives!"

When the Doozyburg squealed around the corner, Baloo jumped up off of the stairs. "Follow that stone!"

Several blocks away, in the Porche, Leo Stedman smiled at the stone on the leather passenger seat. Now that it was in his possession, all he had to do was deliver it to Shere Khan. Within an hour, he would be on one of Shere Khan's private planes heading for a few days of RR in beautiful Rio de Jalapeño where he would be surrounded by women almost as attractive as himself.

Pressing the gold star in the middle of his ruby ring, he waited for Shere Khan to answer.

"Yes?"

"I've got it, sir."

"Excellent." Shere Khan's blasé tone belied his delight. "I'll expect you in exactly fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir."

Stedman peeked in his rearview mirror when he heard the wail of a police siren. Thinking that they were chasing after someone else, he frowned at his reflection - that horrible flat hair with the dark, oily roots! He would have to make sure that there was a hairstylist aboard the plane to Rio de Jalapeño.

"You in the flashy silver car, pull over!" ordered the policeman over the loudspeaker mounted to the top of the police vehicle.

"Drat!" muttered Leo Stedman. Reluctantly, he pulled over to the curb and turned off the ignition.

The policeman, a small, tan feline, strolled up to the Porche. He was so short that he could barely peek into the car. "License and registration, please."

"But, officer, I'm a secret agent on a very important mission," Leo Stedman averred, flashing a debonair smile. If he was late to his meeting with Shere Khan - well, he didn't want to think about that!

"So important that you were doing forty-five in a thirty zone? The law is the law even for hotshotsecret agents. Get out of the car, spy guy."

Leo Stedman grumbled, but complied. "I bet James Band never gets treated like this."

While the agent argued and pleaded with the policeman, Trader Moe stopped his car, snuck to the passenger side of the Porche, quietly opened the door, picked up the stone that was lying on the seat, raced back to the black Doozyburg, and took off.

Seeing Trader Moe with the stone, Stedman cried, "Hey, stop, thief! Get him, officer! The thief's getting away!"

"Nice try," the policeman ripped off a ticket and handed it to Stedman, "but it won't work."

Angrily shoving the ticket into his jacket pocket, Stedman drove slowly until he was out of the policeman's range of vision, then he floored it. Two streaks of smoke billowed from his tires.

Meanwhile...

"Baloo, slow down!" Rebecca screamed for the fifth time in as many minutes. The grey Chevrolette sedan was zooming down the street at a breakneck speed, weaving in and out of slower traffic.

"There goes Trader Moe!" Kit shouted from the backseat. "To your right! Back there!"

"Aw, dang it!" Baloo swore. He whipped the car down the next alley. "This woulda been lots easier in a plane."

Rebecca, clinging to the seat as the car bumped down the rough, narrow alleyway, asked, "Where are you going, Baloo?"

"Shortcut!"

They spotted Trader Moe's black Doozyburg zoom down the street that intersected the narrow alleyway, going left.

"There he goes!" the cubs cried as the grey sedan grazed a trash can, sending the metal can and its contents flying over the top of the car.

"I see him!" Baloo said, simultaneously sticking his head out the open passenger window and turning on the windshield wipers to clear the newspapers from the windshield. The big bear spit an apple core from his mouth.

Seeing a cat jump out of their path, Rebecca screeched, "Baloo, slow down!"

"Whee! This is fun!" Molly giggled.

At the end of the alley, they were cut off by a silver car.

"Hey, buddy, I'm drivin' here!" Baloo honked his horn as he pulled onto the street behind the sporty automobile.

The four bears watched in horrified amazement as the lion in the silver Porche stuck a handgun out the window.

"_Baloo!_" Rebecca shrieked, clutching at his arm.

"Boy, some people sure get all fired up about a little blast on the beep-beep." Baloo eased off of the gas until they were a full half a block behind the silver car.

But the agent wasn't aiming for the Chevrolette. In fact, he hadn't even noticed it in his pursuit of the stone. With the confident air of a man who had done this sort of thing countless times, Stedman steered with one hand and took a few well-aimed shots at Trader Moe's back tires, inciting frightened screams from onlookers.

POW!

With shredded rubber flapping from the left rear tire, the black Doozyburg slowed, then stopped. Trader Moe, seeing that his tire had blown out, got out and ran for it, but was no match for the secret agent, who took a flying leap and tackled him to the ground. With a triumphant laugh, Stedman wrenched the stone from Trader Moe, passed his hand over his crispy-with-hairspray hair, and hurried back to his car.

"Who _was_ that?" Rebecca asked.

"The paperclip man!" Molly answered readily.

"The _paperclip_ man?" Baloo, Rebecca, and Kit cried in unison. All stared at the little girl, perplexed.

"How do you know him, Molly?" Kit asked.

"Who cares? He's got our stone!" Baloo stomped the gas pedal to the floor, causing all the bears to be thrown back in their seats.

"Baloo, slow doooooowwwwn!" Rebecca screamed at the top of her lungs.

_**Khan Towers  
**__**A Typical Saturday Workday**_

Inside the large, airy lobby of Khan Towers, the doorman who guarded the elevators, a brawny tiger in a grey uniform, cracked his thick neck and glanced at his watch. Only a half an hour until his lunch break. Standing there for hours on end, for years on end, had taken a toll on his legs. He didn't see why he couldn't sit down and do the same job, but Shere Khan was adamantly opposed to the idea of a sitting security guard.

Yawning, the tiger shifted from one aching foot to the other, wishing that something exciting would happen, something that would break up the boring monotony of his job and get his mind off his tired feet.

He was about to get his wish.

Through the large windows, he saw a silver Porche stop in front of the ninety-story skyscraper with a deafening squeal of brakes. A well-dressed lion got out without completely shutting the car door and sprinted through the revolving doors.

Leo Stedman flashed an identification badge at the security guard. "Secret agent. Important business!"

Just as soon as the elevator doors opened to admit Stedman, a grey car careened around the corner and also screeched to a stop in front of Khan Towers. Four bears hurried into the lobby.

"We gotta split up," Baloo said. "Becky, you an' Molly go in that elevator. Me an' Kit will take the stairs."

"Be careful, both of you," Rebecca said, giving his paw a quick squeeze.

Returning the squeeze, Baloo said, "You took the words right outta my mouth, honey." He and Kit disappeared through the door labeled 'stairs'.

When the bearesses went to get into the elevator, the guard cordially said, "Morning, ma'am," doffing his cap at Rebecca and winking at Molly.

"Good morning." Rebecca pressed the 'up' button, causing the second elevator's doors to slide open. Both bearesses stepped in.

A split second later, a taxi pulled up to the curb, sideswiping the Porche with a terrific 'crunch'. An alligator, who had been holding the driver at gunpoint, got out.

Gun in hand, Trader Moe ran through the revolving door, straight for the elevator, but was detained by the doorman, who demanded identification and an explanation of the handgun.

"Dis is a free country. I got a right to own a gun or two or three."

"Not in here, ya don't." The security guard picked him up bodily and carried him to the door.

Trader Moe slipped out of his brown jacket and dropped to the floor.

"Come back here!" The guard shot at him as the alligator sprinted across the lobby to the elevator. Dodging bullets, he dove into the elevator that was just opening.

An evil smile crossed Trader Moe's face when he saw who was in the elevator with him. "Long time, no see, pretty boy. Hand over da stone."

"Why should I?" asked Leo Stedman coolly. He had been gloating to himself over the success of his mission so much that he had accidentally pushed the wrong floor number. He automatically held the stone above his head so that the short alligator couldn't reach it.

From his shirt pocket, Trader Moe pulled a pistol.

"Big deal." Stedman whipped a smaller, but more powerful gun from his jacket pocket, smirking.

"Oh, yeah?" Trader Moe said, poking the barrel of his gun into Stedman's stomach.

"All right, I'll buy it - _yeah_," retorted Stedman, poking the barrel of _his_ gun at Trader Moe's temple.

With an angry "aargh!" Trader Moe leapt for the stone. He bit the agent's hand, causing the stone to drop to the floor just as the elevator doors opened. In the ensuing scuffle, the stone was kicked into the hallway. Both dove for it. There was a mad scramble for the stone with Stedman coming out the winner - for a few seconds. Trader Moe stomped on the agent's hand, causing the him to scream in pain. The alligator then got back in elevator, smiling smugly at the lion while the doors closed.

"Better luck next time, sucker," Trader Moe said. He laughed derisively, because he heard Stedman yelling and pounding on the elevator door.

Fourteen floors up, the elevator car halted. Six nearly identical panther businessmen carrying briefcases crowded into the elevator, squishing the small alligator to the back.

"Ready for the conference, Jenkins?" asked one of the businessmen.

"As ready as I'll ever be. The last one was..." He didn't dare finish the derogatory sentence about his boss Shere Khan for fear that he was listening in. There were hidden microphones all over the building. Instead, he made a cutting motion across his throat.

Both panthers exchanged knowing grins.

When the elevator finally stopped six floors up and more people piled into the elevator, Trader Moe pushed his way through the crowd of legs and hopped off the elevator, disgruntled. Instead of being in a hallway, he was in a large office with two rows of desks stretching as far as the eye could see. Women were methodically clickitty-clacking on typewriters.

A woman, a long-legged crane, on her way to the mimeograph machine, tossed her stack of papers in the air and screamed hysterically at the sight of Trader Moe's gun. "AAAAAHHHHHH! GUN! GUN!"

"Shaddup, or I'll blast you an' yer big mouth ta kingdom come!"

Of course, threatening her made her even more hysterical. All of the women joined in on the chorus of frantic shrieking. With his hands over his ears, Trader Moe stood there, dumbfounded.

Meanwhile, Baloo and Kit were racing up the numerous flights of stairs that wound their way around and around the central elevator system. Like the remainder of Khan Towers, the stairs were finished completely right down to a narrow strip of dark walnut edging each solid oak step.

Of course, the two bears barely noticed the detailed steps in passing. They had more important things on their minds.

Baloo puffed, "Man, kid, tryin' ta find the stone in this place is harder than findin' a needle in a haystack. There's gotta be a hundred twenty million floors. Next time...oh, man, my side!...Becky's takin' the stairs."

While his Papa Bear huffed and puffed, Kit was secretly finding all of this stair-climbing good to keep him in shape for track practice. Hearing the women scream, the boy cried, "Listen!"

"What's that?" Baloo wondered. "Cats yowlin' bad opera?"

"It sounds like someone's in trouble! In there!"

"Oh, good. We get to get away from these stairs." Baloo, his legs feeling as if he were treading in a bathtub full of jell-o, slowly followed Kit through the nearest door marked with a big black '15'.

They ran smack into a bevy of screaming women. The only word they could make out through the chaotic cacophony was 'gun'.

"Kit, where ya goin'?" Baloo yelled, still out of breath, as the boy squeezed through the women pressing in around them and took off across the room.

"Trader Moe!" was all the boy said.

Seeing the cub racing towards him, Trader Moe turned to flee, but his way was barred by the crowd of women who were all trying to pile through the door at the same time to get away from _him_. "Move it, ya cluckin' chickens!"

In the ensuing chaos, Baloo snuck up behind Trader Moe and snatched the stone from him.

"How dare ya steal what I rightfully stole first?" Trader Moe snarled.

"Who woulda thunk I could stoop so low?" Baloo's laugh changed to a whimper when Trader Moe aimed his gun at him. Watching the gun warily, he drew back his arm. "Go long, Li'l Britches."

The stone soared over the women's heads and across the office.

With a burst of speed, Kit ran down the center aisle between the desks, hopped on top of one of the desks, and easily caught the stone. "Got it, Papa Bear!" he said triumphantly.

A familiar bass voice said, "No, we got you, shrimp, an' da stone."

Ape Goon, who was dangling Kit by the back of his shirt, echoed, "Yeah, we got _you_."

"How did _you_ get here?" Kit squeaked.

Ape Goon looked, bewildered, at his fellow goon. "How's did we get here?"

Rhino Goon scratched his head. "I dunno. It don't make sense."

"It's time ta take out the trash!" Baloo shoved a wastebasket over each goon's head, causing the big ape to drop Kit. Baloo then grabbed the stone from Rhino Goon. "Now I got lotsa cents," he chortled, pushing his way through the women to the hallways, and, consequently, the elevators.

Hopping up and down in rage, Trader Moe shouted, "Stop goofin' around, ya banana peels, an' get dat stone!"

Both goons staggered around dizzily asking, "Who turned out da lights?" and "Where did I go?"

Awkwardly climbing on top of one of the desks, Trader Moe growled as he tugged on the waste baskets, "Ya stupids. Can't even get rid of a little trash can." He and the baskets went falling to the floor.

Rhino Goon blinked from the bright overhead lights. "Wow, da lights turned back on."

"Better dan da dark!" Ape Goon added, laughing gleefully.

"Ya dim-bulbs!" Trader Moe shoved the wastebaskets off of him and scrambled to his feet. "Get dat stone!"

Meanwhile, in the elevator set on a straight course up to Shere Khan's penthouse office, Baloo chuckled to himself about his good fortune. He once again kissed the stone that was his key to prosperity.

Ten floors up, the elevator stopped. The door opened. There was Leo Stedman. He swiftly snatched the stone from the surprised bear. "I'll take that, thank you."

"Hey, who are you?" Baloo cried as the doors shut.

"Someone of consequence." Stedman smoothed his hair down, turned with a jaunty smile, and faced Rebecca. She was holding a fire extinguisher and her finger was on the trigger.

"Hand over the stone, or get sprayed," Rebecca threatened, scowling. "That's _my_ consequence."

The smile faded from Stedman's face. His lips curled in a sneer. He fled down the hall, stone in hand.

Rebecca hurled the fire extinguisher at him, knocking him out. She pried the coveted stone from his limp fingers and ran for the stairs, where she met up with Molly.

"This is a big place, Mommy. Even bigger than the All-in-One-Mart where I got lost."

"Stick close to me, Pumpkin. I've got the stone."

"Correction," Trader Moe said from the landing above. "You _had_ da stone."

The bearesses retreated down the stairs, but the two goons were there and were moving towards them.

"Give up da stone, lady."

"Yeah, da shiny stone," said Rhino Goon.

"Da pretty, shiny stone," added Ape Goon. "An' it's pretty shiny."

It didn't look like she had a choice - Trader Moe above, the goons below and all had guns. Trying to shield her daughter from the guns and goons, Rebecca slowly made her way up the stairs towards Trader Moe with the stone held out before her.

Then, Kit threw open the door, causing Trader Moe to be smashed behind it. "There you are! This way!"

Rebecca, holding Molly's hand, ran up the stairs. Molly stuck out her tongue at the goons before she slammed the door behind her. From behind the door, Trader Moe fell over onto the landing, stiff as an ironing board.

"Dey got away, boss," Rhino Goon said, taking hold of Trader Moe's arm.

"Dem an' da stone," added Ape Goon.

"Don't just stand dere like two dumb statues, ya dummies! Get 'em!"

"Right boss." The goons simultaneously dropped Trader Moe and opened the door, consequently pushing the alligator down the stairs. He tumbled head over heels. On the landing below, he moaned, "I gotta get me new goons!"

Meanwhile, Rebecca, Kit, and Molly were racing up the stairs.

"Dere dey are!" Rhino Goon cried.

"Where?" asked Ape Goon.

"Why can't we get rid of those guys?" Rebecca asked, breathing heavily from running.

"I can't run anymore," Molly gasped, holding a stitch in her side.

"In here." Kit pushed open the door to floor '52'.

Floor fifty-two was no ordinary floor. It didn't house offices, and it didn't even have hallways. Instead, on the other side of the large, cavernous room, was a single glass elevator shaft.

Looking up and to their right, they saw a wall constructed only of panes of glass.

"What's up there?" Molly asked, pointing up.

"We're about to find out," Rebecca replied, hearing the goons' muffled voices becoming louder.

They piled into a glass-enclosed elevator, which wasn't part of the main elevator system that ran the height of the building. It went to one place only - up to the glass-enclosed room. It was sort of a separate building within Khan Towers.

When the doors opened, they found themselves in a scientist's paradise. Men and women in white lab coats tended top-secret projects and painstakingly wrote formidable-looking formulas in laboratory notebooks. The benches that ran the length of the large room were piled with every scientific instrument known to man. Some of these instruments were so new that they were available only to Khan's employees. Beakers of bubbling brews boiled over Bunsen burners. Curious-looking gadgets filled every available nook and cranny. A multitude of sounds - hissing, clacking, humming, clicking, and whirring - met the three bears' ears. The bitter and salty smells of chemicals as well as the faint odor of propane gas wafted towards the bears' noses.

"What _is_ this place?" Rebecca wondered, taking Molly securely by the paw. As they carefully picked their way through whirring machines and flasks full of frothy liquids, the bearess warned, "Don't touch anything."

"Mommy, look!" Molly stuck her head through a banister, which surrounded a long, narrow rectangular hole in the floor. Down through this opening, the first floor of the lab was visible; it was similar to the lab that they were passing through, only with fewer benches and bigger machines.

Kit, peering with curiosity into the story below, grinned at the familiar surroundings. "This is one of Buzz's labs, Miz Cunningham."

"_One?_" Rebecca's eyes looked around at the large room. It, combined with the room below, could have easily housed all of Higher for Hire.

"He has his own private lab a few floors up."

"You've been here before, Kit?" Rebecca asked, leading Molly away from the banister.

"Sure. Baloo's brought me here to visit Buzz a couple of times. He sure has some weird inventions."

Staring at ten scientists bouncing on top of a large piece of plastic as if it were a trampoline, Rebecca murmured, "I see what you mean."

Molly stopped in front of a large, complicated machine that reached to the ceiling. The sole purpose of that machine seemed to be blowing bubbles. The little girl watched, fascinated, as the growing bubble changed from one pastel color to the next. "Neat-o!"

"Come on, Pumpkin. We can't stop to look today."

"Can Baloo bring _me_ here someday?" Molly asked eagerly. "I wanna see some more of Buzz's inventions."

"We'll see," Rebecca answered vaguely.

Molly frowned up at her mother. She knew that 'we'll see' was a polite way of saying 'no'.

They were almost to the door on the other side of the lab when the goons burst in. "Hey, you!"

"Who, us?" Kit retorted with a smirk. "Sorry we can't stay and chat, but we were just leaving!" He grabbed a chair, pushed open the door connecting to the main building, and, after they were all on the other side, wedged the chair underneath the doorknob in an attempt to buy them some time.

The goons thundered side-by-side through the lab, overturning chairs, knocking machines and scientists over, and sending beakers and their boiling contents splashing to the floor.

Faintly, there was a gurgling sound that started in low, then started to grow. Emanating from the bubble machine was the biggest bubble that grew...

And grew.

And grew!

The goons watched, fascinated and alarmed, as the bubble pressed them against the bench. They gasped for breath as they were squished almost flat.

Finally, after what seemed a breathtaking eternity to the goons, the gigantic bubble blew with a deafening POP! The goons were propelled across the room, through the wall of the lab like two missiles. Rebecca and Kit dropped to the floor, but Molly wasn't so lucky. She, caught up in the goons' wake, was thrown through the open window as the two lives missiles flew down the hallway.

"_Molly!_" Rebecca and Kit cried, watching with horror as the little girl plummeted towards the busy street below.

Without hesitating a second, Kit jumped out the window, grabbed his airfoil from beneath his sweater, 'swam' towards Molly, caught her around the waist, opened the airfoil with a flick of his wrist, and slid the airfoil beneath their feet. Spotting another open window in Khan Towers, he aimed for it. In the office, they surfed across on top of desks, swung three times around a coatrack, and lurched to an abrupt stop in a female elephant's lap.

"Sorry, ma'am," Kit apologized, quickly helping Molly off of the amazed and peeved woman's ample lap. "You okay, kiddo?"

"That was great!" Molly giggled. "Can we do it again?"

"No," he replied firmly. With a push of a button, he folded his airfoil and concealed it beneath his shirt. " Let's go find your mom and Baloo."

_**Meanwhile  
**__**Sixty-Seven Stories Up**_

In his penthouse office, Shere Khan was enjoying his daily feeding of his Venus flytraps. Tending to the large, lush jungle that lined both sides of his opulent office relaxed his nerves and provided an escape from the everyday pressures of running a multi-billion dollar corporation. Needless to say, it was the most enjoyable part of his day. The tiger businessman took a wriggling beetle from a large jar and held it over one of the flytraps' open mouths. A slight smile crossed Khan's normally impassive features as he listened to his pet's satisfied crunching.

"Mr. Khan?" said Mrs. Snarly, Khan's devoted secretary over the intercom.

A frown replaced Khan's smile as he set the jar of insects on his desk and punched the intercom button. "This had better be worthwhile. I told you that I wasn't to be disturbed unless it was for something more than a million dollars."

"It is, sir. There's something that you should know."

"Mr. Stedman is here?"

"No, sir. Security recommends that you listen to your microphone system."

With a flip of a switch, shrieks and shouts as well as a few gunshots were audible. Khan's face darkened. "What exactly is going on, Mrs. Snarly?"

"It appears some hooligans are causing disturbances throughout the building, sir. Security is on it."

Khan listened to the screaming and shouting, scowling. "Tell security to be on it," he flicked his razor sharp claws out; "_faster_."

"Yes, Mr. Khan."

He savagely slashed his claws across his desk. "I want this bedlam stopped."

**_Thirty-Seven Stories Down  
_****_Or the 53rd Floor_**

Rebecca got in the elevator. Her heart was still hammering in her chest from seeing her daughter and her future son plunging to their near deaths. She looked at the bank of floor numbers - some above, some below. She thoughtfully gazed at the stone in her hand. Sure, it was worth a lot of money, but a lot of money wouldn't mean anything without her children or Baloo. Pursing her lips, she decidedly pushed 'twenty-five'.

To her immense surprise, one floor down, the elevator stopped. The doors opened. When Trader Moe and the goons crowded in, she quickly jammed the stone in her pants pocket.

"Small world, ain't it?" Trader Moe leered up at her. "Where's da stone?"

"I don't have it." Rebecca's fingers closed around the stone in her pocket. She cast discreet glances at the hulking goons, who were on each side of her. She knew that they could easily snap her in two like a toothpick.

"We'll see about dat. Shake her up, boys."

Taking her by the shoulders, they roughly shook her like a paint can until she felt like she was going to pass out from a concussion.

Trader Moe slapped a hand to his forehead. "No, ya bozos! I meant shake her _upside-down_!"

"Oh, I gets it!" Rhino Goon said slowly. "Upside-down, like on her head."

"Downside-up on her head." The big ape pointed to his backside, which he thought was his head.

"Her head's up here," Rhino Goon corrected, gesturing to his bald pate.

"Oh, _head_," said Ape Goon, giggling stupidly.

"Don't you...ah!" Rebecca was flipped upside-down and shook. The stone clattered to the floor and emitted a small spark.

"Hello, light o' my life." Trader Moe reached down to pick it up. A jolt of crackling electricity coursed through his entire body, turning him into a jittery light bulb.

Rhino Goon offered amiably, "I'll save ya, boss."

"Yeah, save ya," said Ape Goon.

But in trying to pry the stone from Trader Moe's shaking hands, they too were shocked - and they were unable to break their connection with the stone.

Rebecca clamped her eyes shut and shrank against the wall, flinching at the horrible sizzling and cries of agony.

When all was silent, she cautiously opened her eyes, Trader Moe and his goons were charred black like three burnt hot dogs. Thick grey smoke rolled from them, and there was a horrible stench of scorched fur.

To Rebecca's great relief, the elevator bell dinged and the doors slid open. Heart pounding, she grabbed the stone, swiftly pressed the first floor button, then the 'close door' button, and fled, colliding with...

"You!" Rebecca and Baloo cried simultaneously.

Rebecca slipped her hand into the big bear's. "Oh, Baloo, I've never been so glad to see you in all my life."

"Same here, Beckers." Feeling the stone pressed against his palm, he beamed with delight. "You an' yer sparkly friend."

They sidled over to the second elevator.

"Have you seen the kids?" Rebecca asked concernedly.

"Uh-huh." The big bear shook his head.

"We've got to find them." She pushed the 'down' button.

Baloo pushed the 'up' button. "After we cash this stone in."

"How can you be so selfish, Baloo? This is Kit and Molly we're talking about."

"Kit can take care of himself an' Molly."

Rebecca's voice and temper rose as she retorted, "I don't want my children in the hands of that...that...Trader Moe and his lamebrain goons or that other strangely handsome..." Catching her fiancé's annoyed look, she swiftly amended, "I mean, strange weirdo - whoever he is! We're going after the kids!"

"We're cashin' in this stone, Becky!"

They jabbed the elevator buttons more forcefully with each angry sentence.

"_Kids!_"

"_Stone!_"

"KIDS!" Rebecca put her paws over the buttons, glaring defiantly at Baloo.

"Fun game," said Rhino Goon, behind them.

"Yeah, fun," echoed Ape Goon with a giggle.

"I know what comes next," said Rhino Goon. "Stone, right?"

"Right," said Trader Moe, wiping soot from his face. He and the goons were aiming guns at the two bears. In a sweetly sarcastic tone, he said, "If you would be so kind as to hand it over."

"See what your arguing has gotten us into, Baloo?" Rebecca scolded.

"_Me?_ If you had just listened to me, Rebecca, we'd be in Khanny's office right now, collectin' our moolah, but noooooo, _you_ knew better!"

Trader Moe's furious, "SHADDUP!" echoed through the hallway. He and his goons pointed guns at them. "It's time we got rid of two annoyin' _obstacles_. Boys, when I say 'fire', you fire at da two bears. _Don't_ fire at me. Fire at da two bears! An' you don't listen to a word dey say. Only listen to _me_!"

His forehead creased in concentration, Rhino Goon nodded his head. "Okay, boss."

"Okey-dokey." Ape Goon also nodded his head.

"Ready..."

Baloo drew Rebecca close, shielding her in his arms. He whispered loudly, "Ya shoulda listened to me, Becky, then we wouldn't be in this mess."

Trader Moe's malicious grin widened. "Aim..."

Rebecca buried her face in Baloo's chest. She whispered back, "For once, Baloo, can't we die without bickering?"

"Fi..." Squeezing their eyes shut, the bears inhaled sharply, then breathed a collective sigh of relief when Trader Moe said, "Wait, boys! Dey still have da stone. Hand it over, den we'll blast ya!"

Still keeping one arm protectively around his fiancée, Baloo took the stone from his shirt pocket and looked at it. "I'll only give it to you if you promise to let us go."

"Let me think about it." Less than a second later, he shouted, "Forget it!" causing the bears to recoil. "I'll get it after yer kaput."

"Kaput," said Rhino Goon menacingly.

"Yeah, bye-bye."

Testily, the alligator blurted out, "Ready, aim, AAAGH!"

Trader Moe and his goons were plowed over by people pouring out of the elevator right behind them. It was lunch time and everyone was headed for the cafeteria, which happened to be on that floor.

The bears were swept along in the mob of hungry people.

As they got closer to the cafeteria, Baloo sniffed the air with appreciation. "Mmm-hmm! Somethin' smells good."

They were in a large room teeming with Khan's hungry employees. On both sides of the room were several stations that served different types of food - salads, main entrees, desserts, and beverages - and there were long lines of people, trays in hands, queued behind each of the stations. Beyond the food serving area were many long tables where employees were eating.

Baloo, holding Rebecca's hand, snaked his way through the crowds of people. On the way by, he snagged a fried chicken leg. Between bites of chicken, he said, "This is what I call fast food."

Hearing shrieks and shouts of dismay and shock, as well as loud crashes as trays clattered to the floor, Baloo glanced over his shoulder. "Uh-oh, we got company again!"

They ran as fast as they were able through the crowd, then came across the dining area. But there was no other exit. Baloo spun right, left, pulling Rebecca along with him. "Oh, man, dead end!" the big bear cried, tossing the chicken bone into a nearby trash can.

"We'll be dead if we don't get out of here fast," Rebecca said dolefully, peering behind her at the rapidly approaching goons.

"I got me an idea. Becky, you take the stone an' sneak outta here. I'll distract 'em."

"Hey, big, stupid, an' ugly! Over here!" Baloo taunted as Rebecca shoved the stone in her pocket and dropped to her hands and knees.

"Who are you callin' ugly?" Rhino Goon growled, peeved.

"My mother says I'm not _that_ ugly," echoed Ape Goon, his heavy features darkening into a scowl.

Neither goon noticed Rebecca crawling right beside his legs.

Scooping up two handfuls of mashed potatoes, Baloo jeered, "You're the ugliest uglies here, not countin' yer boss."

Trader Moe's face turned a brilliant shade of red. "Why, you...get 'em!"

When the goons got close enough, Baloo pelted them with mashed potatoes.

SPLAT! Rhino Goon scraped potatoes from his face and put it in his mouth. "Mmm."

SPLAT! Ape Goon's large pink tongue cleared a path of potatoes around his mouth. "Yummy."

"Food fight!" both goons shouted. They scooped up whatever food they could get their meaty hands on and, laughing like two little children, slung it each other and at their boss.

"Stop it!"

SPLAT!

"Ouch!"

SPLAT!

"Stop it, ya fish sticks!"

SPLAT!

"Ow! Dat had a bone in it!"

"Hate ta eat an' run," Baloo said, sidling past the two goons and their boss, who were engrossed in the food fight; "but I got a date with some dough."

Meanwhile, Rebecca had left the cafeteria and was hurrying towards the nearest elevator. The hallway was nearly empty. There was only a janitor - an elderly grey mole - vacuuming using a central vacuum system where the vacuum was built into the wall. Then, to her utter amazement, Shere Khan himself stepped up to her.

In his characteristic calm bass voice, he purred, "I believe you have something of mine, Miz Cunningham."

"Why...yes, I do. How did you know?"

Khan ignored her question. "Excellent. If you would be so kind as to return it to me now, I'll see that you get your just reward...reward _money_."

"All right."

As Rebecca pulled the stone from her pocket, the ruby ring on the tiger's left paw beeped.

Shere Khan's irritated, unmistakable voice issued from the ring. "Where are you, Stedman? I expected you twenty minutes ago. If you aren't here with the stone in exactly two minutes, you will be terminated."

Her mouth agape, the bearess stared at the ring, then up at the tiger's face. "You're not Shere Khan!" Rebecca cried. "You're that man!"

"Give me that stone!"

"No!"

A tug-of-war ensued. Their eyes followed the stone as it flew up, up, up in the air, then fell down, down, down. The nearsighted janitor sucked the stone up in his vacuum.

"Oh, no!" Rebecca and Stedman gasped.

**_Twenty-three Stories Down_**

Kit and Molly were walking along a carpeted corridor, passing door after door on their way to the elevators.

"Do you think we'll _ever_ find Mommy and Baloo?" Molly asked tremulously.

"Sure we will, Short Stuff." Kit grinned down at her and took her hand.

They passed a janitor - an armadillo about Kit's height. 'Wiggerstomper' was stitched on his greyish-green overalls. Annoyed that the vacuum wasn't sucking up anything, he peered down the tube, shook the tube, then reversed the air flow. Something shot out of the vacuum tube, ricocheted off the wall, and landed tantalizingly close to the cubs.

"The stone!" Molly cried happily.

Her fingertips almost touched it, when Kit yelled out, "Don't touch it, Molly!"

She quickly drew back her hand.

Picking up a can of floor wax from the janitor's cart, Kit threw it at the stone, then swiftly pulled curious Molly out of harm's way. As soon as the can touched the stone, it exploded with a big 'bang'. Sticky wax sprayed all over. After the stone's electricity had been discharged, there was a burnt spot on the brown carpet.

Kit scooped up the stone, now cool to the touch. His fingers tingled slightly from the electric residue. "I guess this is the real deal after all."

"It really is worth a hundred thousand dollars?"

"Yep." Kit carefully wiped the wax from the stone using his sweater.

"Yay!" Molly clapped her hands joyfully. "Mommy likes money."

"Hey, you kids will have to pay for that carpet!" said Oscar Wiggerstomper in his nasal voice. "And the wax costs seventy-five cents." Waddling after them on his short legs, he was yanked back like a dog on a leash when he reached the end of the vacuum's hose.

The cubs got into the elevator, which was already crowded. The second lunch shift employees filed out at floor fifty-three.

Through the sea of legs, Molly spotted a familiar figure. "Baloo!"

Before Kit could grab her, she took off, sliding between legs, snaking around people, until she was lost to Kit. "Molly! Come back!"

Kit pushed his way into the crowd, but didn't seen any sign of a little yellow bearess. However, he did see... "Papa Bear!"

"Hey, kiddo." Baloo greeted. He held out a half-eaten slice of apple pie. "Want a bite?"

Grimacing, he said, "No, thanks. I've got something better."

"What's better than apple pie?" Around the last bite, he said, "Besides apple pie with ice cream an' roast beef an' potatoes an' gravy an'...?"

The boy glanced furtively around before he held out the stone.

Baloo nearly choked on his pie. He swallowed the big bite in one big gulp and eagerly took hold of the stone. "You're right, kid, that's loads better. Let's go cash in this goldmine before it gets away again. Now, act real cool, Kit. Don't wanna draw attention or nothin'." He ran towards the elevator at full speed.

He was almost there when a foot protruded from behind a potted plant beside the elevator and tripped him. The big bear went sailing into the open elevator and the stone went flying into the hands of the person behind the bush.

A familiar voice said triumphantly, "Ha! I've got it!"

Baloo drummed his fingers irately on the floor of the elevator. Jamming his red pilot's hat on his head, he snapped, "Doggone it, Becky, we're on the same team!"

"Sorry, Baloo," she said sheepishly, blushing a little. "I got caught up in the excitement of the treasure hunt. Didn't see you - only the stone." After helping him up, she straightened his collar and brushed imaginary lint from his chest. "Are you okay?"

"I'm more than okay. We've got the stone!" Baloo said excitedly. Rebecca and Kit followed him into the elevator, sharing in the excitement of imminent wealth.

Just as the elevator doors began to slide shut, Trader Moe retorted, "Look what I got!"

"Mommy! Baloo!" cried a little quavering voice.

"_Molly!_" Baloo, Rebecca, and Kit exclaimed simultaneously. The pilot frantically wedged his hand between the closing elevator doors, causing them to slide back open. He held it open while Rebecca and Kit stepped into the hallway, then joined them.

"Hand over da stone or da kid gets a big hole in her little head," the food-covered alligator snarled. The gun's barrel was pointed at the girl's temple. She whimpered softly as the cold metal touched her face.

Baloo, Rebecca, and Kit whipped around at the sound of Leo Stedman saying, "No, give _me_ the stone." The grim-looking secret agent had shed his 'Shere Khan' disguise. To his extreme annoyance, he didn't look as handsome as he had that morning. His navy suit was crumpled, and, horror of horrors, his hair was a complete mess.

"Who _is_ that?" Rebecca whispered to Baloo.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing," the big bear replied.

"The paperclip man!" Molly said brightly.

"Shaddup, you," Trader Moe growled, pressing the gun closer to her temple.

"I am _not_ the paperclip man!" Stedman said angrily, running both hands through his bedraggled hair until it stood on end. Crisply, he stated, "I happen to be..."

Trader Moe cut him off with, "No one cares who you are, pretty boy. Give da stone to _me_."

"No, me," said Stedman.

"Me!"

"Me!"

Rhino Goon, standing behind his boss, pointed down. "Him."

"Yeah, him," Ape Goon echoed, pointing at Rhino Goon. The rhino moved the ape's finger so that it pointed down at Trader Moe. Ape Goon giggled inanely. "Oops, _him_."

"Three ta one. Looks like you lose, pretty boy." Trader Moe smirked.

Stedman whipped his switchblade and gun from his pockets, smiling smugly down at the short alligator. "We'll see about that, _shorty_."

Trader Moe lips spread into an evil grin. "I'm gonna enjoy dis. Terminate him, boys."

"No!" Rebecca yelled. "Don't shoot!"

"You can't tell me what to do," Trader Moe retorted, shifting his focus to the trembling bearess.

"You can't tell da boss what ta do, lady," echoed Rhino Goon.

"Yeah, lady, tell da boss what to do," said Ape Goon.

"Just give him the stone, Baloo," Rebecca ordered curtly. She was near hysterics. The only thing keeping her from running to her daughter was Baloo's restraining paw on her arm.

"Which one?" His mind racing to formulate a plan to escape from this explosive situation, Baloo's gaze flitted from Trader Moe and company's semi-automatic rifles to Stedman's weapons then back to Molly's large, frightened eyes. He looked to Kit for help, but all the boy did was shake his head slightly.

"The one with my daughter!" Rebecca snapped, tears beading in her eyes.

Baloo pulled the stone from his shirt pocket. He held it in his hand for a few moments as if he was pondering what to do.

Then he did something completely unbelievable.

End of part 4


	5. Dollars and Demotions

**The Return of the Stone  
****Part 5**

Feeling a light tap against his foot, Baloo looked down. It was one of Buzz's latest inventions - a robotic floor sweeper/polisher. The round, beetle-like machine, which gurgled like a coffee machine, glided on a rotating polishing pad. It had two vacuum hoses that stuck out its sides like two arms. It repeatedly, relentlessly bumped against Baloo's foot.

Shooting a sly grin at Trader Moe, Baloo dropped the stone. It was sucked up by one of the vacuum hoses, crunched up into a million fragments like ice in an ice-crusher, then 'swallowed' with a loud 'slurp'. Without knowing that it had done anything wrong, the robot continued on its merry, mechanical way around the corner of the corridor.

Everyone's jaws dropped in amazement.

"Da stone!" cried Trader Moe. Distracted by the appalling turn of events, he lowered his handgun. Molly bit her captor's hand and kicked him in the shins hard, prompting a loud, "OW! Stupid kid!" from the alligator. The little girl ran like crazy into her mother's outstretched arms.

"My career - crushed to dust!" shouted Leo Stedman. In a flash, he took off after the robot.

"Baloo," Rebecca gasped, hugging Molly tightly; "I can't believe you did that. All that money..."

"Aw, it was nuthin', honey," he said with an enigmatical twinkle in his eyes. The big bear slung an arm around Kit's shoulder and grinned down at the boy.

But their smiles quickly faded.

Glaring at the four bears, Trader Moe said menacingly, "Youse just cost me a load of cash."

"A load of cash," echoed Rhino Goon, frowning.

"No money," added Ape Goon.

"Now yer gonna pay for it," Trader Moe growled.

As he and his goons slowly closed in on the four bears, guns at the ready, Baloo pushed Rebecca and the cubs behind him.

"Freeze!" shouted a panther security guard.

As if on cue, one hundred security officers - all look-alike grey panthers - poured out of the elevators, the stairways, and the hallways from all directions.

"He told us to freeze," said Ape Goon. "I'm not cold."

"Me, neither," agreed Rhino Goon, shrugging his broad shoulders. "But dere's some ice in da food place. Dat would make us cold."

The head security officer ordered, "Put up your hands and put down your weapons."

"What do we do first?" Ape Goon asked Rhino Goon.

"Uh...put up da hands, I think," answered Rhino Goon, more confused than usual by all of the firearms pointed at himself. He wasn't used to being on that end of the gun.

Trader Moe slid his gun towards the security guards and raised his hands. However, the stupid goons raised their hands, still holding their firearms.

"Put down the guns!" yelled one security guard.

"But put up your hands!" shouted a second security guard.

"But put the guns down!" said the first security guard.

The goons raised and lowered their hands until they didn't know which way was up or down. "Whatta we do, boss?" they finally murmured.

"AGH!" Trader Moe snatched the guns from the goons, roughly backhanded them across the snouts, and screamed, "Put yer hands up now, ya ding-dongs!"

Rhino Goon and Ape Goon grinned at each other. "Oh, we gets it!"

While the threesome were handcuffed and being led away by the security officers, Trader Moe pleaded, "Incarcerate me fer life. Put in me in solitary confinement. Just don't make me spend the next ten ta twenty with dose dumb goons!"

After the crowd of officers had dispersed, Baloo, Rebecca, Kit, and Molly trooped into the elevator.

"Thank goodness that's over," Kit mumbled, wearily leaning against the elevator wall.

"Did you see Trader Moe jump around when I kicked him?" Molly giggled. "That was funny."

Rebecca caught the little girl's hand in hers. "Your being held at gunpoint wasn't funny, Pumpkin."

"Goin' up!" Baloo sang, pushing the button for the topmost floor.

"Why?" Rebecca and Kit cried.

Grinning, Baloo pulled the sub-electron amplifier from his pocket and kissed it. "I told ya it was _nuthin'_, Becky."

"But...but..._how_?" She shared a quizzical look with Kit.

"That other sparkler was a fake I got at Louie's Treasure Island blowout. This here's the real deal. The ol' switcheroo. Richville, here we come!"

"Woo-hoo!" the cubs cried.

_**Shere Khan's Office**_

When the elevator doors opened on the far end of his opulent office, Shere Khan swivelled in his chair, saying laconically, "You're fifty-four minutes late, Stedman." He snapped his pocket watch shut. His eyes narrowed when he saw the four bears. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Uh, I think we got somethin' you wanna see, Khanny," Baloo said, holding out the stone.

Khan's steady gaze passed from bear to bear to bear to bear. His right eyebrow lifted questioningly, but all he said was, "I see."

Ten minutes later, Rebecca sat in the low-seated armchair in front of the desk with Molly on her lap. Lightly leaning against Rebecca's shoulder was Kit. He, perched on the arm of the chair, watched as Baloo paced back and forth, wringing his cap in his hands. They waited quietly, yet impatiently, while the stone's inventor, Dr. Debolt, a small apricot-colored rabbit with a shock of grey hair wearing a white lab coat, scrutinized the stone under a magnifying glass.

"Well, Dr. Debolt? Is it authentic?" Khan drawled, peering over his large desk at the scientist.

The rabbit's small head was comically large as he looked through the magnifying glass at his boss. "It seems to be, Mr. Khan, but this method of testing is inconclusive. To be absolutely, one hundred percent sure, I'll need to do further testing on it."

"And what, pray tell, would _that _be?"

Dr. Debolt pushed his round spectacles up on his nose and counted on his fingers. "X-rays and fluoroscopes and microscopes and electroscopes and stethoscopes and..."

Khan interrupted with, "Mmm-yes. And how long will this testing take?"

"Three," Dr. Debolt smeared some floor wax around on the stone, perplexed; "maybe four weeks."

"Four weeks?" Baloo exclaimed, slumping over the back of the chair, dangling his cap right in front of Rebecca's face. Peeved, she snatched the cap out of his hands and shoved it on his head.

"Oh, yes. It's a very involved, delicate process." Dr. Debolt examined the stone for a few minutes more under the magnifying glass before saying, "Or I could just do this." The scientist tossed the stone into a nearby metal trash can where it sent up sparks. "It's authentic," he declared.

"Very good, Dr. Debolt."

"Mr. Khan, about the bomb-in-a-bubble machine - I think we'll be able to salvage..."

Shere Khan picked up the scientist by his long ears and shoved a wad of paper in his mouth. Patiently, yet pointedly, he reiterated, "Thank you, Dr. Debolt. You may _leave_ now. We'll discuss that invention later." As the small rabbit scurried from the room, the businessman turned to the four bears with a rare, almost friendly, smile on his face. "I suppose the reward of one hundred thousand dollars that I offered previously is still acceptable?"

"It's more than acceptable, Khanny," said Baloo, grinning from ear to ear.

Khan pulled a gold key from his vest pocket. He unlocked the bottom desk drawer and drew out a small, metal box. He twirled the combination lock on the box and pulled out a second, smaller metal box. That box contained a small whistle. Putting the whistle to his lips, he played a fast, high-pitched tune.

To the four bears' astonishment, a safe sprang up from the jungle on the left side of the room. Khan went to the safe and unlocked three combination locks, being careful to avoid the snapping Venus flytraps. He opened the safe door just wide enough to grab a handful of cash.

Shere Khan counted and recounted out 100,000 in one hundred dollar bills, which he handed to Rebecca. He closed the safe door with a reverberating 'clang', causing it to sink slowly back into the jungle. He once again sat at his desk, locked both boxes, placed them back in the drawer, and placed the key in his vest pocket. "Thank you for your services," Khan said simply, swiveling around in his chair to face the window. That was their cue to leave.

"No, thank _you_, Mr. Khan," Rebecca said, repressing her glee.

After they stepped into the elevator, Khan pressed the intercom button. "Mrs. Snarly, the treasure hunters are leaving." He fished the stone from the trash can and leaned back in his chair to study the sub-electron amplifier, sparkling in the sunshine, with satisfaction.

In the elevator, Rebecca fanned herself with the money. She giggled giddily. "What are we going to do with all of this?"

Baloo took the money from her and hugged it. "The question is what _ain't_ we gonna do, Becky."

One floor down, the elevator doors opened. Mrs. Snarly, an elderly, but spry, shrew wearing a lavender dress with her grey hair in a neat pompadour stood there. She held a piece of paper that trailed to the floor. In a no-nonsense manner, she said briskly, "Before you leave, there are a few expenditures we need to go over. One burnt carpet, one can of floor wax, damage to Mr. Khan's top-secret projects, cleanup in the cafeteria, one apple pie, repairs for the laboratory wall, wear and tear on the elevators..." As she read the list of damages, she ruthlessly plucked money from Baloo's hands.

Their mouths agape, the four bears watched as their pile of money dwindled.

When Mrs. Snarly finally said, "Thank you," and walked away with most of their money, they all looked at the four 100 bills in Baloo's hands.

"Well, at least she left us _something_," Kit murmured under his breath.

Mrs. Snarly spun around. "Oh, I forgot to take into account emotional trauma on our employees." She yanked two more bills from Baloo.

Muttering, "She's not getting any more of our money!" Rebecca grabbed the remaining 200 from Baloo and shoved it in her pants pocket. She repeatedly pushed the 'close door' button.

All four bears blinked when they stepped out of Khan Towers into the bright afternoon sunshine. Kit glanced at his watch. They had only been in that building for an hour and a half, but it seemed as if they had spent days on that wild goose chase. He couldn't believe that just that morning he and Baloo had been to Port Allegro delivering peanut butter and jelly.

Sliding behind the wheel of the grey Chevrolette, Baloo said, "Man, it feels good ta get off my dogs. They're sure barkin' somethin' fierce."

In the backseat, Molly yawned. She looked like she was ready for a nap, which was unusual for the energetic little girl. "That was _a lot_ of running."

"I'm definitely ready for track practice," Kit added, stretching out his sore legs. "I could run the mile no problem."

"All that exercise for only a measly two hundred smackers," Baloo mumbled angrily, starting the car.

"It's better than coming out with nothing," Kit reminded him. "Been there, done that."

Baloo grinned at the boy in the rearview mirror. "Done that several times too many, kid. Well, Beckers, it looks like you got your dress."

Rebecca, who had been happily gazing at the money that she clutched in her hands, shot a surprised glance over at her fiancé. "Are you sure that's what you want to spend it on, Baloo?"

"After a chase that crazy, that two hundred dollars deserves ta be spent on somethin' just as crazy."

Rebecca threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "You won't think I'm crazy after you see me in that dress, darling."

Returning her affectionate smile and hug, Baloo murmured, "Yeah, then I'll be crazy 'bout you."

She regained her seat on the passenger side of the car and grinned joyfully down at the money. "I guess that stone brought us a little luck after all."

"Lucky for us, we got outta that jam alive." Easing the car into traffic, Baloo asked, "Who's up for some grub? I'm starvin'!"

_**Back to Shere Khan's Office**_

A contrite, bedraggled Leo Stedman tiptoed across the office to where the stern-looking tiger businessman was seated behind his desk. Cupped in the agent's hands was a mound of red glass shards. He poured the shards onto the desk. "Mr. Khan, I've got the stone - er, what's left of it."

Khan looked with amused derision down at the pitiful pile of glass. "Do you? That's most interesting."

"Yes, sir." The agent failed to see what was so interesting about glass.

"Then _what_ is _this_?" Khan waved the sub-electron amplifier under Stedman's nose.

Bewildered, Stedman's eyes flitted from the stone to the red fragments that he had a terrible time extracting from the robot as the rips in his suit attested to. At that moment, his extra-large ego deflated. He stuttered, "I...I...I don't know, sir. H...how did you get that?"

"Someone was kind enough to deliver it to me," Khan added coldly, "unlike the _paperclip man_."

"How did you know about that?" Stedman squeaked, sinking into the low chair.

Complacently, Khan studied the stone in his hand. "I am aware of everything that goes on in my building, Mr. Stedman. So...you were seen after I specifically told you not to be seen?"

"Yes, Mr. Khan, but...but only by a little girl and..."

"It has been my experience that little girls are quite capable of telling the police what - and who - they saw."

"But..."

"Mr. Stedman, you have disappointed me severely." Khan flicked out his claws on his left paw. "And I have ways of dealing with," raking his claws across the desktop, he shot a pointed glance at the agent; "_disappointments_."

"You're not going to fire me?" Leo Stedman murmured, cringing.

"No." Khan smiled a secret smile at the stone. Ambiguously, he said, "I have another _mission_ for you."

_**Two Weeks Later**_

Dog Rather announced over the radio, "Monday, billionaire and CEO of Khan Industries, Shere Khan, will be present at the opening of his new power plant located in the Sierra Padre mountains. According to Mr. Khan, this revolutionary process can produce ten times the energy more efficiently and a thousand times cheaper than conventional methods. It is reported to be able to provide enough electricity to power all businesses associated with Khan Industries. In other news..."

Leo Stedman irately flipped off the tiny pocket radio and drop-kicked it across the room. It was no mystery as to why he was angry.

The once dashingly dressed lion was now wearing plain brown overalls with burn marks on the sleeves. Instead of being in Rio de Jalepeño, he was in an enormous warehouse-sized building filled with large batteries - each as big as a Thembrian panzer. Every one of those batteries was wired to a single diamond-shaped metal cage that was suspended five feet off the floor in the middle of the room. Inside the metal cage was the sub-electron amplifier. It sent a continuous stream of electricity through the cage, through the wires, to all of the batteries. In turn, the batteries were connected to wires leading to Cape Suzette.

With a scorch-pocked white cloth and a pair of rubber gloves in his hand, Stedman listlessly leaned against one of the batteries. Frowning, he watched the scientists as they performed their last minute tests in preparation for the grand opening.

Dr. Debolt said, "The electrical output isn't at maximum potential. The sub-electron amplifier needs to be polished again." He gestured to Leo Stedman, whose title was now 'Official Stone Polisher'.

Donning the hated rubber gloves that made his hands sweat, Stedman tentatively put his arm between the bars of the wire cage and half-heartedly rubbed the stone's crackling surface. Leaning in to reach the other side of the stone, his tawny hair accidentally touched the stone, causing it to be singed. He sprang back and pinched the smoldering lock of hair. A chunk of blackened hair fell like ashes to the floor. It wasn't the first time that that had happened. "Stupid stone!" he grumbled, near tears over the horrible fate of his once perfect, cherished hair.

The End


End file.
